


An Affinity for Ashes

by kurgaya



Category: Bleach
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Agent of the Shinigami, Protective Shuuhei, Shinigami/Zanpakuto Bond, Tōshirō Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1191879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurgaya/pseuds/kurgaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mousey. Sombre. Skittish.</p><p>That was Shuuhei's first impression of the Academy's current prodigious graduate, Tōshirō Hitsugaya.</p><p>The kid was a genius; there was so much potential in him that anybody would be jealous - but there was something about him; something more; something... off.</p><p>Something broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I needed pre-captain!Tōshirō and some Shuuhei appreciation (cause he's awesome).
> 
> Woops?
> 
> Please note this story inexplicably ignores the non-canon events from 'The Diamond Dust Rebellion' (god I hated that movie).
> 
> Please enjoy! I hope I've done the two characters justice.

Though Shuuhei Hisagi had known about the existence of the Academy's current prodigious genius - everybody had - he had not once stopped to consider who Toshiro Hitsugaya actually was until the mousey, sombre child turned up outside the Ninth Division gates with his too-long zanpakuto tied loosely onto his back, and his even longer uniform drowning his minuscule frame. Unlike the majority of the new recruits loitering around the grounds, the winter hare was skittish only with his eyes; sharp and an astutely intelligent teal, and endearingly approachable solely from afar; white locks fluffed atop a pale, snow-kissed baby face, but cold frown frozen deep into the chubby layers of innocence. Shuuhei watched the boy for a few moments, noting keenly that a subconscious wave of his sharp icy reiatsu continuously pulsed outwards. Whether that was due to a lack of control over the terrible vastness of his powers or reflecting his instinct to protect himself couldn't be falsified, but Shuuhei knew, just by simply observing the young officer from a distance – and without immediately flaunting the judgmental nature of people - that it didn't make a difference. Uncertainty and resentment both bred fear, and all three of those emotions would result in the singularity of the exotic mastermind. The other recruits gave the tiny lad a wide berth. Hitsugaya scowled at the white of his tabi, glaring as if his shoes could entice the chatting group of shinigami to include him in their joy.

Shuuhei sighed and glanced over at the Ninth and Tenth seats standing at his side. Neither of them seemed to pay the littlest recruit any mind; instead they were grumbling about the lack of restraint in the others. _Perfect roles models_ , he thought cynically, though they at least had earned the right to gossip. Years of hard work had rewarded them with their current positions - the newbies from the Academy had a long way to go.

First and foremost they needed to be toughened up. The Academy taught mere basics; not enough to survive beyond a solitary, inexcusably simple-minded Hollow. Each of their individual natures and skills would need to be excelled to a degree where improvising in the heat of battle was instinct. Strict form and regiment foundations were useless outside of a classroom setting - a lesson the new recruits always struggled to comprehend. Shuuhei knew this wasn't their fault - after years of following the same rules the mechanics of life in a division came as quite a shock. The Ninth Division, however, took pride in their careful yet effective methods of introducing the recruits to their new environment, and that was why Shuuhei was currently observing Hitsugaya and his classmates with his reiatsu tucked away, almost undetectable.

If they didn't notice him by the time he was five feet away then he was going to have his work cut out for him. Hopefully it wouldn't reach that point as it had during the last graduation. Shuuhei couldn't remember who was more mortified - him, or the tumbling-over-themselves recruits who had screamed at the sight of him. Wary of a repeat of that moment, Shuuhei signalled an initiation to his two comrades. Upon noticing they quietened immediately, lest they unwittingly give the game away and ruin perhaps one of the most influential moments of judging the capabilities of the new recruits. To be stalked upon in the safety of their own home was cruel for the graduates, but ultimately that was the order of life and Shuuhei would rather them paranoid and alive than buried six foot under in their naivety.

Hitsugaya was clearly paranoid already. Though marginally slouched to his left side (a stance due to be corrected), there were hints in his body language that he was attempting to observe the things and people around him. Unlike his chatting classmates, he seemed to be discreetly aware of his surroundings. Not to the same degree as those of Shuuhei’s skill of course, but there was something almost professional about the child; something Shuuhei rarely saw in the new recruits. _No_ , he thought, correcting himself as he braved another step, _professional_ wasn’t the right word. There weren’t enough scars in and on the surface of Hitsugaya’s fragile, ghostly body for him to be considered professional. Though grateful for this, Shuuhei supposed to say that the child had an _experienced_ air was perhaps more suitable.

Aware that the boy had only been taken Hollow hunting once in his brief time at the Academy (if the reports were to be wholly trusted), Shuuhei could only wildly fathom where he had acquired that experience from. The Academy was often hugely criticised for its lack of realism; it was a school and such things should be expected, but criticism was a favourite pastime of many, Shuuhei knew. Yet somehow – _somehow_ – one of the students had attained the taste of life while locked away in the bubble of youthful fantasy, and though Shuuhei knew not all of those who went through the Academy had come from a peaceful background, Hitsugaya certainly had, so for someone of his status to have kicked the dog of death so early in his shinigami life and managed to escape unscathed was an oddity – if nothing else.

Caught up in wondering what had happened to the young recruit, Shuuhei almost missed the silent shuffle of feet and the flicker of jagged, frigid reiatsu. Maintaining his neutral persona in face of the change, the Ninth Division officer inwardly sighed in relief that at least one of the graduates had skills keen enough to notice him. He was yet upon the larger group still aimlessly gossiping some metres away, but the bottled up avalanche was looking in his direction with a small frown. Deciding he might as well let the kid know what was going on now that he had passed the test, Shuuhei let his existence be seen before abruptly sneaking from view yet again.

None of the other people in the area so much as twitched. Hitsugaya, however, positively _glowered_. Shuuhei nearly let loose a laugh at the sight as he advanced.

Death may have already torn its way into Hitsugaya’s short life, but there was no doubt in Shuuhei’s mind that the kid could bite back just as fiercely. Though it was unfortunate that such a defence mechanism was required, Shuuhei felt grateful to know that Hitsugaya wasn’t a helpless pushover – those kinds of people didn’t last long in the Gotei Thirteen and the raven haired shinigami could already feel a soft spot developing in his heart for the kid. He was aware that he shouldn’t show favouritism as a high seated officer, but even a blind man could see that captains and lieutenants alike didn’t abide by that rule. Plus, if it would keep Hitsugaya alive to achieve his full potential – which Shuuhei was convinced was greater than anything he could ever imagine – then keeping his eye on the recruit wouldn’t be a bad thing.

Two minutes later all of the recruits bar one were getting lectured by the Ninth Seat. Standing slightly apart from the abashed group Hitsugaya was watching silently, though the fact that his perceptive gaze was hidden behind his fringe meant Shuuhei couldn’t quite be sure of this. Deciding that it didn’t matter either way for what he intended, Shuuhei strode over with a large, welcoming gait. Hitsugaya twitched towards him, both of his small hands reflexively clenching – just for a second, and then he seemed to realise who he was about to threaten and forced himself to stand to attention.

Shuuhei smiled as best he could. “Well done,” he said, keeping his voice low so that they weren’t overheard. It would be unproductive to further single the boy out from his peers.

Hitsugaya frowned at the praise, yet there was a light in his eyes that suggested he didn’t want to. “Thank you,” he replied politely, dipping into a bow.

Shuuhei returned a shallower bow and noticed disapprovingly that the recruit startled, as if being shown any degree of respect was uncustomary. “I’m Shuuhei Hisagi, the Fourth Seat here at the Ninth.”

“Tōshirō Hitsugaya,” came the curt, albeit somewhat mumbled, reply. He was not quite shy (there was too much witty ferocity in his words for that) – withdrawn, definitely, and easily uncomfortable in social situations. Shuuhei continued to smile encouragingly, hoping to coax the boy out of his diamond shell.

“Do you have any aspirations, Hitsugaya-san?”

On one hand he wanted to keep the conversation going (Hitsugaya appeared to be doing his best at saying the barest minimum while still maintaining his politeness); on the other he was genuinely interested in the boy he had met hardly ten minutes prior. Yet Shuuhei wasn’t certain what exactly it was about Hitsugaya that fascinated him; an enigma wrapped in introversion, undoubtedly he would be a tough nut to crack – a fortress; a barricade. But being of the Ninth Division meant that he didn’t back down from a challenge; his sights set on Hitsugaya, he was determined to find a way into the innermost of the boy’s personality. Not through force – no, a siege against such defences would be fruitless – but by walking right in through the front door.

All he had to do was knock and hope he received a pleasant reception. Hitsugaya’s immense reiatsu was a stark message to all those who wanted entrance that there was a guard dog on the other side; one prepared to fight tooth and claw to protect the master of the house. Coming face to face with such a beast would be dangerous: Shuuhei wouldn’t be able to predict who would come out of the brawl better off.

But, if anything, that only encouraged him. He was going to offer his assistance whether Hitsugaya wanted it or not.

“Sorry,” he said, tuning back into the conversation after missing whatever Hitsugaya said in response. “Could you repeat that please?”

The rosy flush on the tip of the boy’s pastel nose suggested that he hadn’t intended to have his comment heard in the first place, and thus repeated it to attentive ears was the last thing he wanted.

“I’d quite like not to get torn to pieces, Hisagi-san, if that can count as an aspiration.”

Shuuhei blinked at the sudden wit, having known it was there but not having expected it so soon into the conversation. Immediately discouraged by the reaction, Hitsugaya’s flush bled out of his cheeks to leave a wasted, pale complexion, and a hard smile prepared for brutality. He ducked his head, letting his ghostly hair hide his embarrassment, and added;

“Excuse me, Hisagi-san, I don’t have any current ambitions to share.”

 _Woops_ , thought Shuuhei, cursing himself for screwing things up. As fate would have it he didn’t get the opportunity to fix his mistake, for there and then the Ninth Seat called to him, apparently finished wearing the newbies down into a mortified, palatable mess of their former cockiness. Hitsugaya’s already formidable shell seemed to snap back into place (not that Shuuhei believed for a second that it had dropped even a fraction during their tiny conversation) and once again he was but an insignificant statue of ice. Irritated, the Fourth Seat submitted to the knowledge of a missed chance, and strode across the gravel to his place amongst his more experienced comrades. He glanced Hitsugaya’s way just once during the remainder of the induction – not, that is, that the boy had altered his facial expression in the slightest.

Shuuhei sighed.

Well that could have gone better.

He’d have to try again later.

 

 

‘Later’ came in the form of a miscommunication between two seated officers and a bunch of new members running around on a wild goose chase at nine o’clock in the evening some days after the induction.

“What do you mean Ogawa-san’s looking for them? How on earth has she lost three recruits already?”

Shuuhei fixed the Fifth Seat with an expectant frown and the greying librarian-type man spluttered bewilderedly.

“You saw them last,” noted Shuuhei, crossing his arms impatiently. They were in the small alcove adjoining the captain and lieutenant’s office, but as neither of the two superior officers were working Shuuhei didn’t mind raising his voice a little to get the point of his anger across. “Apparently Fujita-san sent them your way?”

The Fifth Seat’s thinning eyebrows dropped, a thoughtful expression settling in-between the hard lines of age. “My apologies Hisagi-san, but I don’t understand how I’ve contributed to their wandering off. They came to me asking to verify that the reports on the lieutenant’s desk were due for the Twelfth Division – which I confirmed they were – and then they left. That was some hours ago now.”

Completely unhelpful except to lay the blame on someone else – _grand_ , thought Shuuhei. “Do you have any idea where they went?”

The older man shrugged but looked faintly apologetic. Aware that he would get little else from his company, Shuuhei bowed and thanked the man.

“Really though,” said the Fifth Seat, just as Shuuhei was preparing to shut the door. “They can’t have gone far – one of them’s a walking thermostat.”

Having absolutely no idea what a ‘thermostat’ was, Shuuhei closed the door without replying. He paused there for a moment, as if the wooden grains of the door would magically reveal where the lost officers were, and then shunpoed away.

He eventually found the group loitering near the jurisdiction of the captain’s gardens. Normally he would have put an immediate stop to such suspicious shenanigans so close to a restricted area, but the trio were using a carefully manipulated Shakkaho to light their debate in an almost eerie scarlet glow, and he had to admit that it impressed him. It was an astonishing achievement for a boy barely out of the Academy, but Hitsugaya didn’t seem to notice the complexity of his work as the pair of girls he was with whispered to each other in low, puzzled tones. There was a scribbled drawing of some sorts in his free hand, and as Shuuhei moved towards the boundaries of their conversation he realised that it was a hastily drawn map of the grounds. In Fujita’s blue handwriting it truly was an awful attempt at the Ninth Division layout, and if the muttered words between the three young officers were anything to go by, they were thinking the same.

“I think it’s safe to say that we’ve been sent completely in the wrong direction,” grumbled the first girl, peering at the map illuminated between them. Artificial lighting was scare around this area – Shuuhei would be surprised if they had any inkling as to where they were standing.

“And whose fault is that?” snapped the second girl, scowling deeply.

“Oh, well,” said the first, clearly shaken by the question. “Probably Seventh Seat Fuji –”

“ _Yours_ , obviously,” the other interrupted, her vicious snarl directed at the quietest member of the group. Shuuhei felt his eyebrows shoot up at the accusation; Hitsugaya, however, simply apologised with a glum, subdued voice of submission.

The ball of light hovering above his hand flickered.

The hot-headed girl continued to rant at her two companions, both of whom just let her complain with tightly closed lips. Whereas the politer girl’s expression was that of a wounded meekness, Hitsugaya was utterly composed against the vulgarity, still letting his reiatsu drain away to provide them all with the warm comfort of a light.

Shuuhei would have probably mumbled something about a ‘spineless coward’ had he not seen part of himself – just for a second – in the boy.

He cleared his throat pointedly behind the rambling girl. She jumped half a foot in the air and cut her sentence off with a yelp – had Shuuhei been a Hollow, he noted, she would have been long dead.

The other girl bowed. Hitsugaya hesitated, a calculating gaze fixed on the miraculous appearance of the Fourth Seat, before doing the same.

“I think perhaps you should all turn in for the night,” Shuuhei announced, sighing down at their childish faces. He cast his own Shakkaho to provide more light – it drowned out the glow of Hitsugaya’s fading attempt with ease; the boy pulled his reiatsu back in and tried not to look disgruntled.

 _Bite me_ , Shuuhei thought, fighting back a smile. _Come on, I know you can._

The three recruits stared at him, probably waiting for him to continue. He tried to slip his encouraging yet stern face on; it wasn’t their fault they were wandering around in the dark, after all. They were no doubt aware that they should have reported back to Ogawa already, yet disobeying a direct order from a higher seated officer would potentially get them into even greater trouble, so it was no surprise that they were still trying to fulfil a task that wasn’t actually necessary – not that they knew that.

He continued on. “I’ll ask one of the night guards to pass on a message to Fujita-san and Ogawa-san – go back to your quarters; we can sort this out in the morning.”

The rowdy girl blinked aimlessly at him. Hitsugaya and the other exchanged a meaningful glance, a silent question passing between them. Somewhat surprised by that, Shuuhei allowed his gaze to appreciate the kinder of the two female officers for the first time. Perhaps a decade older than Hitsugaya in appearance, a roasted chestnut of hair sat atop a round, distinctly pretty face, and eyes the serene colour of the ocean squinted against the harsh light of Shuuhei’s kido. She was taller than her male comrade (though the majority were) and not quite as terrifyingly skinny; she held herself with nervousness and uncertainty, but stood by Hitsugaya in a striking display of disregard for the social discrimination against him. Already the duo were wordlessly communicating in the dark, and Shuuhei felt a twinge of relief at the sight. Though most were against him, it seemed Hitsugaya might be able to find his place in the Ninth Division after all.

He would have to find out her name. Undoubtedly it would provide useful in the future.

“Come on,” he said, turning to make his way back towards the main building. “I’ll show you the way back.”

They followed him obediently. The girls’ dorm was the closest so he deposited the two female officers off first – they thanked him with embarrassed bows and headed in different directions, unwilling to associate with each other beyond necessity. When Hitsugaya’s new friend waved at him happily in farewell, Shuuhei had to nudge the boy to encourage him to do the same. Expression morphed into an odd combination of pleasure and mortification, Hitsugaya’s returning wave was incredibly awkward, but the young Tomomi Yukimura didn’t appear to mind.

Shuuhei felt pretty impressed with himself, guiding the confused officer to the boys’ dorm, and it must have shown on his face for Hitsugaya was blushing furiously when they arrived, his scowl failing in an attempt at scaring his reddening cheeks into fading.

“Maybe your new ambition should be to understand the language of girls,” Shuuhei teased, subtlety bringing up their previous conversation.

Hitsugaya regarded him carefully, like a hiding mouse spying on a predacious cat. “I think that would be more than a life’s work, Hisagi-san.”

Shuuhei grinned and gently pushed the boy through the doorway. Though he wanted to get to know Hitsugaya and help him feel welcome in the Ninth, he couldn’t help but feel that he should try and understand his own intentions before pressing them onto the child-like shinigami. Making Hitsugaya uncomfortable was the last thing Shuuhei wanted, so preparing for any concerned questions that might be directed towards him was probably a good place to start.

Plus, he still needed to figure out why he had taken such a shine to Hitsugaya. There was just something about the boy that he magnetised towards. What, he wasn’t certain, but Shuuhei knew he would find out eventually.

“Goodnight Hitsugaya-san,” he said. Now was not the time to ponder such things; not when his temporary charge had clearly had an exhausting afternoon and needed to rest.

Hitsugaya bowed. “Goodnight Hisagi-san.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

 

 

Their interactions were infrequent and brief for the next few months, yet Shuuhei left each exchange with a proud, delighted smile, secure in the knowledge that he was capable of puzzling Hitsugaya out. As for Hitsugaya, the young shinigami seemed to be settling into the Ninth fairly well – the seated officers soon realised that he was motivated and devoted to learning and improving his skills, though even with the constant praise for his work Hitsugaya still kept to himself and avoided social behaviour as much as possible. Since his introverted mind-set could have been his incentive to work, it was rarely commented upon by his fellow officers. As such Shuuhei tried to ease the boy into interacting with other people, even if only for minutes at a time. He wasn’t entirely sure when he had decided to personally insist that Hitsugaya try to make friends, though it was probably around the same time he insured that the kid and Yukimura were placed in the same weekly training class.

Shuuhei had to admit that his… protectiveness scared him a little bit. Izuru and Renji had been the unfortunate two on the receiving end of one of his intoxicated babbles – they had primarily found his ‘mother-hen’ behaviour hilarious, but by the end of the evening were assisting him with ideas on how to best go about cracking open Hitsugaya’s sub-zero fortress. Neurotic genii were actually rather common in the Seireitei; they appeared in all shapes and sizes so the blizzard of insecurity that Shuuhei found himself tackling wasn’t the first to grace the Ninth Division.

Shuuhei, himself, could be classed as one of those people.

“That’s probably why you want to help him,” Renji had said, mumbling around the cool lip of a sake bottle. “Weirdos have gotta stick together you know.”

Though crudely spoken, it had been the truth. He was empathetic towards Hitsugaya because he saw himself in the boy. On one hand they were incredibly different – Shuuhei was far more extroverted, a little less motivated (but only because Hitsugaya never seemed to stop working), and had the rather unique problem of fearing his zanpakuto, whereas Hitsugaya was shy, sarcastic (but only in defence), and had the average relationship with his zanpakuto. Not that Shuuhei had actually ever seen the boy’s zanpakuto in action – in fact, while it was carried around on Hitsugaya’s back twenty-four-seven, Shuuhei couldn’t pinpoint a single moment where he had seen the sleek blade in its wielder’s small hands.

He didn’t realise just how significant this scrap of information was until much later.

As always, it had been a standard patrol in the Rukongai taking a turn for the worse that opened Shuuhei’s eyes to reality. The call for back-up had arrived at the abrupt two PM hour; the message contained a lacking amount of content, but as Shuuhei and an adrenalised squad of seated officers tore through the Seireitei streets, he played over what he knew in his mind.

The patrol had been cunningly herded into two separate areas to divide their power, and then forced into battle right in the centre of a market street. The Hollow they were supposed to be hunting had turned the tables, and now the ill-prepared team were struggling to save themselves, the screaming citizens, and the brittle architecture of the district.

It would have been a standard incident (which was unfortunate in itself) had the patrol squad not contained one Tōshirō Hitsugaya. And – upon arrival at the scene – Shuuhei could see why.

It was chaos. Buildings had collapsed or partly caved in under the onslaught, villagers were screaming, hiding, and scampering around like terrified sheep, and the few shinigami who could still find strength in themselves to fight were attempting to simultaneously herd them to safety and keep the approaching Hollow away. And on top of that all, the entire area was buried in a bitter layer of snow, and great protrusions of crimson splattered ice enclosed the street like a forest of a thousand blades thriving from the residue of death. They had no shape but that of a deranged terror and desperation, and they seemed to tear at the sky as if it were but a silk curtain, ripping apart breath and wind with the glacial claw of a beast.

Shuuhei sucked in a frigid gust of air that tore its way down his throat like a scream and thought, gasping his fear into the howling tempest around him –

– _Hyorinmaru_.

He unsheathed his zanpakuto. It vibrated with a vicious excitement and lust for battle, the sheer power choking the air infesting his blood, his blade, his soul. Shuuhei and his squad threw themselves into the fray with the yells of dying men and sliced through the pack of Hollow without mercy, the sight of their wounded comrades urging them on. The ice made fighting tricky, but it wasn’t just the shinigami that struggled to keep their footing – the Hollow, too, confined themselves to the safer patches of dirt, and with less places to flee the fight soon turned to the shinigami’s favour. Yet their opponents seemed to be endless and the crying pleas of frightened villagers only multiplied in volume as the carnage continued: the Hollow were fortuned with a quick death, the people were left to rot.

“For God’s sake!” somebody was yelling, and something in the back of Shuuhei’s mind tuned him in to listen even as he dodged under a precarious claw and blasted a Hollow away. “Pull yourself together boy!”

It sounded like the Tenth Seat. Grateful that he was still alive, Shuuhei spun to inspect the cause of the other man’s ferocity and promptly regretted it when a burning splatter of Hollow vomit caught him on the thigh. He roared in pain and stumbled, cutting wildly to protect himself from the subsequent attack – a blade he didn’t recognise rose in his defence, and the blistered hands of the young Yukimura trembled in her resolution.

“Hisagi-san!” she screeched, batting the Hollow away. To her credit she didn’t remove her eyes from her opponent, but the distraction of what she wanted to say cost her insight into the Hollow’s intentions and Shuuhei barely managed to launch himself forward in time to prevent her imminent decapitation. The ice punched them with an unforgiving fist and Yukimura groaned; Shuuhei rolled over and destroyed the Hollow with a blazing Shakkaho and almost echoed her in relief.

“Sir!” she continued, scrambling back onto her feet. “Hitsugaya-san –!”

In his daze Shuuhei thought for a second that she was calling _him_ ‘Hitsugaya’ until the implications of her presence and the frozen chaos fully registered in his mind. He cut her off by grabbing her sweaty palm and shunpoing them towards the remains of a flimsy wooden house – surprisingly she didn’t tumble at the abrupt movement, though he couldn’t be sure of the significance of her bloodless face and traumatised eyes.

Even at their short distance from the wicked centre of the fight Hitsugaya was easy to spot. Isolated by an explosion of petal-like needles of ice, the boy’s deformed and motionless form was like the eye of a blossoming flower. He was curled on one side as if he were sleeping, and Shuuhei’s heart shuddered in an inane wish for that to be true. One impressive shunpo propelled him to Hitsugaya’s side; the frozen cage seemed to ripple at his approach, like a dragon flexing its muscles and shifting its scales, and wide, haunted teal eyes forced a startled curse from Shuuhei’s bloody mouth.

There was naught by terror in Hitsugaya’s gaze.

The Fourth Seat dropped to his knees, zanpakuto gripped tight and prepared in one hand; the other reaching for the little officer to check for injuries. Hitsugaya didn’t appear to be seriously wounded yet the rigidity of his broken frame caused doubt in the assessment, so Shuuhei laid a palm atop the smaller body – it was shivering almost to the point of convulsion; the fire behind Hitsugaya’s eyes was now hardly a flicker of its usual blaze.

It was then that he understood.

Though it was usually hidden well behind a thick layer of sarcasm and cunning intellect, Shuuhei could now see through the glass exterior before him to the root of Hitsugaya’s motivation and the core of his distinctly introverted being –

It was fear.

And one so primal and unnatural that it was almost a sin against Hitsugaya’s very nature; a denial of oneself; a plea for change; a hatred for what made one whole. It was born of the unknown (as most fears were) but had grown and twisted as his zanpakuto had called and reached and screamed for him – Shuuhei swallowed heavily at the thought of Hitsugaya trapped in an inner world of emptiness and longing and danger. The legendary Hyorinmaru brought no comfort or awe to the affection-starved child; instead its rapacious and peremptory nature caused uncertainty and terror.

Shuuhei knew because he felt it himself with every brush of his fingertips against Kazeshini’s hilt.

“Oh God,” he breathed, lifting his gaze to survey the arctic wreckage around them left in the wake of the insuppressible dragon. The battle was nearly over now – the last few Hollow were being chased into the outskirts of the district and shinigami were gathering around to check the wounded. There was little left of the original street except blackened, splintered wood and the dead and dying discarded in the bed of snow. A quick glance revealed Yukimura standing off to the side with a courageous, grim expression turned towards him – she looked undecided, as if she wasn’t sure if approaching Hitsugaya would be the safest course of action.

She wasn’t the only one.

“Oh God,” Shuuhei sighed again, a humourless bubble of laughter threatening to burst out of his throat.

Hitsugaya mumbled something in the dismal tone of apology. His voice cracked as if he were about to cry, but even with the aftermath of the terror of his zanpakuto scattered around the area, there was a determination to his countenance to not express such vulnerability.

 _Stupid brave boy_ , Shuuhei thought.

He swung down Kazeshini and knocked him out cold.

Hyorinmaru’s devastation faded away.

 

 

After spending two days slumbering off his reiatsu exhaustion, Hitsugaya woke in one of the non-emergency communal rooms of the Fourth Division looking the picture of a windswept robin with a tremendous hangover. Though busy at the time he was informed of this development, the late-lunch hour freed up an opportunity for Shuuhei to visit the officer during his recovery, and thus the Fourth Seat hastened to complete his paperwork to take advantage of the ample period. Now that he was aware of what subconscious instinct encouraged him to empathise with Hitsugaya, he felt more determined than ever to reach out to the childlike officer. He held no illusion that it was going to be easy, but having made the decision months prior not to back down from this particular challenge, he knew there was nothing for it but to give it his best stab.

Though perhaps not for long.

Much to Shuuhei’s surprise when he navigated through the labyrinth corridors of the Fourth Division, there was already somebody pacing outside of the room Hitsugaya was housed in. Holding herself far better than the last he had seen of her (the bruises on her thigh had probably had something to do with that), Tomomi Yukimura was now rid of the bloodied, daunted expression from the battlefield and seemed more like her sunny self. Asauchi strapped to her side and all appearances of a weary warrior washed and tidied away, the girl startled at his quiet approach and blushed to the tips of her auburn hair. Shuuhei smiled at her, hoping that her diligent presence implied that a friendship with Hitsugaya was still desirable from her point of view. It was good for Hitsugaya to have a friend after all.

They bowed to one another in greeting.

“I’ve come to see Hitsugaya-san,” Shuuhei began, though that much was surely obvious from his presence. “Is he not available?”

“Ah – um – he has a visitor at the moment,” replied Yukimura, casting her anxious gaze towards the closed door. “I didn’t want to disturb them so I thought I’d wait out here until they were finished.”

“Surely they would not mind if you joined them?” he asked, reaching out with his reiatsu to see if he could identify who Hitsugaya’s guest was. It was unlikely he would have any luck (especially since his detection skills weren’t amazing) but he was curious; the boy wasn’t the type to make a lot of friends after all (letting both he and Yukimura in had been challenging enough).

Upon successfully realising who was in the room, Shuuhei snapped back his reiatsu immediately. Yukimura giggled guiltily and picked at her pristine sleeve.

If his senses were to be believed then Lieutenant Matsumoto of the Tenth Division was apparently chatting with an unseated officer of the Ninth lying in his sick-bed!

His stark disbelief must have been evident in his expression for Yukimura echoed his confusion with a small smile. “I don’t know if they know each other that well really – I’ve never seen them interact – but the lieutenant laughed when Hitsugaya-san grumbled about her visit so I can only assume there’s some familiarity between them.”

She paused there, glancing side to side, and then added in a distinctly feminine coo; “It’s sweet, don’t you think?”

Not wanting to accidentally slander the lieutenant’s reputation through admitting his concern, Shuuhei simply shrugged. This was just as well, really, because the door they were waiting beside opened then and the strawberry haired woman strode out, laughing freely at whatever had conversed between her and Hitsugaya. The two Ninth Division shinigami bowed instantly. Matsumoto returned a shallower bow and then stepped to the side to reveal the doorway.

“You must be Yukimura-san and Hisagi-san!” she greeted, grinning wildly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Shuuhei would swear to his deathbed that he heard a mumbled ‘Christ’ from inside the room at those words. Unable to dwell on that for the moment, however, he confirmed the lieutenant’s observation. “It’s nice to meet you too, Lieutenant. Sorry if we bothered you.”

“Oh no,” she replied, waving his off with a sing-song chime. “You’ve done nothing of the sort. I was just saying ‘hello’ to my favourite little genius – sorry if I kept you waiting long.”

Her interest in Hitsugaya was odd, thought Shuuhei, yet he was unable to fault the delighted friendliness in her eyes. She appeared to be sincere – though whether or not that was true didn’t change the fact that a friendship between a lieutenant and a lowly officer of a different division was very unusual indeed. Shuuhei supposed all he could do was ask Hitsugaya for the context – he certainly didn’t dare pry into a lieutenant’s business after all.

They parted ways soon after. The Fourth Seat allowed Yukimura to speak to Hitsugaya first – he would have probably followed her in had the conversation he planned to have with the boy not been of a sensitive and personal topic. He may not seem to be as close to the officer as the lieutenant, but he was certain in his knowledge that Hitsugaya wouldn’t want the nature of his relationship with his zanpakuto to be reduced to common gossip among the Ninth. With nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs, Shuuhei was glad when Yukimura spent no more than ten minutes reassuring her friend that she was a ‘bit spooked’ but ‘that was okay’ and that she’d really ‘like to be able to help’ in any way she could.

Not that Shuuhei had been eavesdropping.

Not at all.

(Captain Unohana had passed during those painful ten minutes and raised a terrifying eyebrow at his position plastered against the door. He had promptly blushed to the tips of his toes and spluttered out a feeble defence – she had simply smiled at him in the way that forced even the toughest shinigami to fall to their knees for forgiveness and then continued on with her round.

Shuuhei had only just managed not to quiver on the floor in fear like many men had been reduced to before – Hitsugaya needs my help, he had pleaded to himself under the vicious scrutiny, so don’t back down now you coward.

He wondered retrospectively if the captain had been able to read his thoughts and if that was why she had slipped away with something akin to approval on her perfectly innocent face).

There was just one other patient in the room when Shuuhei tiptoed in – an older man, not of the Ninth, who was snoring away by the window. Politely ignoring the slumbering shinigami, the Fourth Seat settled down into the somewhat warm chair Yukimura had vacated by Hitsugaya’s bedside, forgoing the requirement for a bow when the other clearly wouldn’t be able to return one from his propped up position against the pillows. Despite that – or perhaps, because of that – Hitsugaya inclined his outrageous mop of hair in what could be interpreted as a bow, though the action could have also simply been the boy ducking his head to avert his gaze.

“Hey, come on,” Shuuhei prompted lightly. He had a feeling he knew what was going through Hitsugaya’s extravagant brain. “It’s rude not to look at someone when they’re talking to you – I’m not here to hull you off to the captain.”

A flicker of surprise passed across Hitsugaya’s pale complexion. “Then how can I help you, Hisagi-san?”

“It’s more than I want to help you actually,” he explained, deciding to get right down to business to defeat the dilemma rooted into Hitsugaya’s very bones. (‘Dilemma’ was undermining the nature of the counterproductive relationship between Hitsugaya and his zanpakuto, however). “I’ve noticed that you’re… not on particularly good terms with your zanpakuto.”

There was a dangerous twitch to the young officer’s reiatsu at that, and the change in the boy’s demeanour was so instantaneous and indisputable that Shuuhei caught each fleeting, raw emotion as it twisted Hitsugaya’s unfledged face, and heard – rather than saw – his posture stiffen into his fortified garrison of diamond skin and unbreakable frozen bones. If there had been any doubt of the dragon dwelling in the core of Hitsugaya’s soul before that point, the vehement flash of blood behind the startled teal eyes was evidence enough.

Shuuhei felt momentarily alarmed beyond any imaginable measure of his fear.

(No wonder the kid was terrified).

“What of it?” Hitsugaya snapped back defensively. “What’s wrong with that?”

The agony in his voice would have been unbelievable to comprehend had he been talking to anybody but Shuuhei.

“Everything,” said the Fourth Seat, stressing the word kindly to convey his heartache. “Everything’s wrong with that. Tell me – what is a zanpakuto?”

Hitsugaya’s lips parted soundlessly; his brows furrowed. “A zanpakuto is the primary weapon of the shinigami and is the sentient reflection of its wielder’s soul,” he said a-matter-of-factly, bemused about why he was being asked to recite such basic knowledge.

 _Fair enough_ , thought Shuuhei, _but not enough_. “Yes, right, that’s the textbook answer. What is a zanpakuto?”

A moment passed in which Shuuhei doubted that Hitsugaya would feel any need to expand on his fundamental answer, but then the injured shinigami seemed to deflate in defeat; the exhausted bruises under his eyes darkened as he sighed. “…It’s a physical representation of one’s convictions, aspirations, and potential. It is an embodiment of a… partnership… and is unique to each individual to the point where they share no name, philosophy, or personality with another zanpakuto.”

“Go on,” Shuuhei encouraged.

Hitsugaya huffed. “They are one’s motivation and guide; friend; and self. They are _the bestest friend you could ever ask for_ and we both know that Hyorinmaru and I aren’t normal so why are you asking me this Hisagi-san?”

That was apparently as much as he was currently going to get out of the boy, but luckily it was plentiful to work with for the moment. Hitsugaya’s perspicacity was understandable; erroneous, however, and in a desperate need of adjusting – Shuuhei supposed it was just as well he knew where to start, since nobody else seemed to have skills perceptive enough to notice.

No, he couldn’t say that. There was an abundance of shinigami who could perceive – and may already have – the anomaly within the unseated officer. Selective ignorance, perhaps, would be a more agreeable reason for why Hitsugaya had been struggling against the epitome of himself for so long. That, or the boy was a greater master of concealing his true temperament than Shuuhei had originally believed.

This wouldn’t be that surprising, especially given the unnatural nature of what he was desperately attempting to veil. Not knowing your zanpakuto’s name was one thing, but fearing it; consciously deciding not to use or communicate with it? An abomination!

“As I said, I want to help you.” Shuuhei pulled his zanpakuto out of the belt at his side and settled the blade across his lap, running his fingers down the dark sheath. Kazeshini’s spirit stirred – but lacking his usual curiosity, restrained from making any particularly scathing jocular comments. Despite the uncharacteristic empathy of the spirit, Hitsugaya still warily eyed the zanpakuto in the same fashion that Shuuhei imagined one would regard a decaying rat. If the social expectations of how to interact with another’s zanpakuto were not a constant presence of a shinigami’s daily routine, Shuuhei would have been profoundly offended at the stare. As it was, the barefaced discomfort was merely one of the small stepping stones they would undoubtedly face in the upcoming months, so Shuuhei didn’t wait for the other to collect himself and unnecessarily apologise before continuing on.

“This is Kazeshini. He’s a rowdy, violent oddball who likes to laugh at me when I fail, and for a long, long time I feared even touching the hilt of his blade.”

He was stretching the truth slightly but who was to know? It didn’t matter either way when the words had the desired effect on Hitsugaya; astonishment, primarily, and a hint of uncertainty at being privy to such information, but then a cold, heart-felt realisation at the implications, and a grave tilt to his cracked and bitten lips. It was exactly what Shuuhei had hoped for; an initiation of understanding; a note written in a loopy, hopeful hand across Hitsugaya’s beliefs that said ‘hey we’re not that different,’ so he simply waited for Hitsugaya to collect his thoughts and piece them methodically together to form the sophisticated manners his language reflected, and say –

“You… know?”

…Well. The kid couldn’t be a genius all of the time. Smiling, Shuuhei resisted the urge to tease, the lost daze to the boy’s oceanic eyes making his gut twist painfully. He had never felt so protective before. It was exhilarating, but scary. The lengths at which he would go to help Hitsugaya was an undiscovered sky at the very edge of the ever-expanding universe – perhaps he would never find out; perhaps the journey would kill him.

Acquaintances for not even a year and Shuuhei had a suspicion that he would already die for the boy.

Empathy was a wickedly wonderful thing.

“How did you… get over it?” Hitsugaya asked, continuing in a meek yet steady voice. The animalistic slant to his posture was slumbering now, one tenth of its previous threat, and instead the gentle core of his personality was on display. Hitsugaya was nothing if not selfless, kind, and loving – he just had nobody to share it with.

“I didn’t. Not really anyway,” Shuuhei admitted honestly, shrugging. He thought about saying more, explaining what he meant, but the other startled at a yawn of his still recovering body, and he decided it wasn’t time. “Come find me when you’re discharged and I’ll help you to cope,” he added, before Hitsugaya’s faith vanished completely. He patted the boy on the knee – a friendly gesture – and was rewarded with a twitch and an automatic huff of indignation.

“Yes sir.”

Shuuhei had to clarify; “That was a request, not an order.”

Something young and mischievous twinkled in Hitsugaya’s bright, sleepy eyes. One of the many icy barriers between them had been slowly whittled away while they spoke, the Fourth Seat realised then, but it had fallen silently instead of the deafening reluctance that he had expected and he hadn’t even noticed.

“Yes, Hisagi-senpai. I’ll be there.”

 _I should call him ‘Hitsugaya-bouzu’_ , Shuuhei thought playfully, tempted by the instantaneous idea.

Yet he didn’t.

He had a feeling Hitsugaya was being sincere after all.

 _Oh_ – how Shuuhei’s friends would laugh at him now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- san = general politeness; same social class  
> \- senpai/sempai = mentor/senior/upper classman (both versions are strictly correct - I just prefer the former)  
> \- bouzu = below kun; affectionate 'squirt'/'twerp'
> 
> 23/08/14: Updated for improvements in grammar and reading clarity.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a short chapter. I have lots of rubbish going on in my life right now, so I thought it best to give you all this for the time being.

“Hisagi-san,” droned the ageing Fifth Seat a matter of days later, wiggling a calligraphy brush between his fingers as if to distract the working Fourth Seat from the faintly amused, yet stern, expression on his perceptive grey face. “Hitsugaya-kouhai is looking for you.”

Shuuhei frowned over the top of the stack of books he was carrying as he shuffled around a low coffee table. “You shouldn’t call him that,” he reprimanded, taking a moment to pause in his labour to welcome his comrade with a sigh of disapproval. “He’s done nought but warrant respect from this division.”

The Fifth Seat shrugged, unconcerned with his superior officer’s tattle. “He’s still looking for you. I sent him via the west wing to stall for time – if he’s half as bright as you seem to think he is then he’ll no doubt realise soon enough.”

Why the man had felt it necessary to ‘stall for time’ as he had so elegantly phrased it was beyond Shuuhei’s comprehension. They didn’t often see eye-to-eye, but he couldn’t fathom one reason to explain the strange and slightly cruel behaviour from the Fifth Seat. A warning about Hitsugaya’s approaching presence was laughable – especially since Shuuhei had requested their meeting – but he held back in sharing his disbelieving exasperation in favour of finding a home on the bookcase for the tomes in his hands. Prior to the Fifth’s Seat’s somewhat unexplainable interruption, Shuuhei had been researching through the Ninth Division’s disappointingly meagre collection of texts about zanpakuto throughout history. Belatedly he realised that venturing to the Seireitei library would have been a more productive use of his time – he had hoped not to need to, but he supposed that had been a naïve interpretation of his fortune. He would simply have to make the time to continue his research after he managed to charm his way through another one of Hitsugaya’s many filters.

“Can I help you with anything then?” Shuuhei asked through gritted teeth, hardly glancing away from his tedious organisation.

The Fifth Seat’s expression was that of a doubtful incredulity that raised a dark eyebrow in silent reply.

“You’re going to have to elaborate,” Shuuhei added. He hid a frustrated eye roll behind the next book in the pile.

“I’m just… curious about the nature of your relationship with Hitsugaya –”

Shuuhei opened his mouth to hurriedly explain that he wasn’t instigating anything inappropriate with Hitsugaya when the other continued without pause, his train of thought marginally perpendicular to the reprimand that Shuuhei had anticipated.

“– He’s not the sort of person I expected you to associate with; forgive me, I understand this isn’t really my place but I assumed better of –”

“Hitsugaya-san is a hard-working and inspiring individual, no matter what any rumours say in regard to his person, and you should keep comments like that to those who sympathise with your opinion instead of sharing them in an environment where somebody may take offence.”

The Fifth Seat blinked dumbly at Shuuhei’s interrupting defence. “I –”

Shuuhei waved a particularly gruesome tome of Soul Society history at the mortified man. “For all you know, Hitsugaya-san could be privy to this conversation as he patiently stands outside this office waiting for you to stop slandering his name –”

“He is most certainly not!” spluttered the Fifth Seat, puffing up his chest a fraction at the accusation like an alpha male demanding obedience from his beta.

“Then go check if you’re so certain, and I will apologise for doubting your skills if I’m mistaken,” said Shuuhei, smacking his lips together harshly as the man glowered at the order and stormed around to wrench the door open –

“Sir,” greeted Hitsugaya.

If Shuuhei had been a more heartless person he would have gestured a thumbs up to Hitsugaya’s perfect timing and doubled over laughing behind the Fifth Seat’s back. As it was he simply sniggered quietly behind a hand, pretending unavailingly to be the epitome of a considerate colleague when Hitsugaya requested entrance from the blubbering Fifth Seat, his trained politeness of a political endeavour making the older man startle violently and slam the door.

The mumbled ‘ _great_ ’ could have been Shuuhei’s imagination, but from what he had concluded of Hitsugaya’s attitude, he highly doubted it. Sighing (though he desperately wanted to laugh), he turned his most ferociously disappointed expression towards the Fifth Seat and grabbed another textbook – one covering the wide range of weapons zanpakuto had morphed into overtime in their shikai – just in case a physical incentive was necessary.

The Fifth Seat glanced his way for a fraction of a second before wisely deciding to flee the scene.

Hitsugaya ducked out of the man’s way, watching his retreating footfalls down the hallway, and then stepped into the room to fill the vacant position that had been left. Smaller than the Fifth Seat in nothing but size, he swiftly found his place in the centre of the room. He stood tall and fearless – though he wasn’t without fear – and every inch of the office seemed to freeze in time, breath held, to admire the cool serenity of Hitsugaya’s demeanour.

Something had changed in the boy since their last interaction, that much was painfully clear to Shuuhei. Strength rather than subservience was his default now. There was a glint to his teal eyes, like the intrinsic beauty of a stained glass window – shatterproof, if only because of its magnificence. Shuuhei spared a thought in hope that it wasn’t an impenetrable façade – there was always the possibility with someone as methodical and reserved as Hitsugaya – but as he finished organising the texts while the other waited patiently for instructions, a welcome doubt whispered in the back of his mind.

There was still work to be done – so much – but it appeared Hitsugaya had taken the time to really consider their last conversation. He was visibly prepared now, ready to attempt whatever Shuuhei threw at him, and the Fourth Seat patted himself mentally on the back.

He might actually be able to do this.

Hitsugaya might actually be able to do this.

“Alright,” said Shuuhei, once he had finished his work. There were no other pressing matters for him to attend to now – he actually had the whole afternoon off, till night shift on the front gate at dinner. “We’re going to have to find somewhere quiet for this – most of the training grounds here are in use during the day. I was thinking of the kido target range in the Eleventh – it’s only ever using once in a blue moon anyway – unless you have any better suggestions?”

Hitsugaya hesitated for a moment, a somewhat pained expression upon his face, as if there was an idea clinging onto the tip of his tongue and it was kicking wildly at his teeth and gums, demanding for release. But he shook his head, denied the question, and Shuuhei didn’t pry.

“Eleventh Division it is then,” he said. He bid Hitsugaya to follow with a wave. “Come on, let’s get this mess sorted.”

 

 

As predicted, the kido target range was deserted when they arrived. The broken, abandoned state it was in also suggested that it had been deserted for quite some time before their arrival, which was unexpected but not altogether uncharacteristic of the Eleventh. The rotted, splintered doorway opened silently, holding its breath in hope. The dust-churned gravel cheered in glee and danced around their feet as they shuffled in, wary of the dangers of such a place. Even out of use it was still of the Eleventh, and there was no telling what sorts of monsters would be hiding in the shadows. Shuuhei led them to the safest looking area, stepping carefully and questioning his choice of locations. If Hitsugaya held the same concerns about their endeavour then he politely kept them quiet and willingly put himself at the mercy of the Eleventh’s crumbling architecture.

They sat in the stones and the dirt. There were worse places to train; there were better ones. Sometimes you just had to take what life gave you and adapt to it.

Shuuhei hoped to teach Hitsugaya just that.

“So,” he began, contemplating the best way to go about his task. “How long have you known shikai?”

Hitsugaya glanced down at the unusually slender zanpakuto across his knees (his hands were in his lap, mindful not to touch the blade). “Maybe close to a year.”

Not long before he had joined the Ninth then. So their relationship was new as well as broken, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Forming ties would be easier than mending snapped and betrayed ones (though that might just be Shuuhei’s positive outlook talking utter nonsense). Unless, of course, Hitsugaya’s relationship with his zanpakuto was far more complicated than customary, and given the nature of both the shinigami and the violent spirit, it wouldn’t astound Shuuhei to find that such was true.

“When did you start hearing him calling you?” he asked. Most shinigami didn’t hear their zanpakuto until graduating. In fact, the majority of officers never heard the unique perfection of their zanpakuto during their lifetime. That Hitsugaya had already connected with the other side of his soul was an uncommon occurrence. It was a gift and Shuuhei wasn’t going to see it crumble away before it could be rightly treasured.

Hitsugaya shrugged, as if he had no idea. “Before I entered the Academy,” he replied briefly, a melancholy lament to his tone. A man of little words, he was. Shuuhei prompted him to elaborate; they wouldn’t progress far if all the conversations they shared were disastrously one sided.

“I started having dreams after Momo left to become a shinigami, but I didn’t think anything of them at the time I guess. I thought they were just nightmares.”

The curt response was enough to reveal the crux of the problem. Though Shuuhei had no inkling on who ‘Momo’ was (something which he may endeavour to rectify if he or she became a prominent figure in Hitsugaya’s past), that the first contact between boy and zanpakuto had carried the connotation of a ‘nightmare’ implied that Hyorinmaru’s chosen method of reaching for his other half left much to be desired. Instead of solidifying a fleeting fragment of a bond by encouraging and soothing the young soul, the mighty dragon had clearly presented himself in such a ferocious manner that he had frightened Hitsugaya and him discouraged from initiating further interaction, rather than encouraging excitement.

Kazeshini had been similar, though Shuuhei hadn’t truly felt uncomfortable with his zanpakuto until he attained shikai. It had been the crude release command and resulting scythe that had veritably made him reconsider the deepest depths of his personality.

“And that encouraged you to apply for the Shino Academy?” he asked. It would be a standard series of events if it were true. Many of those who had heard their zanpakuto during their time in the Rukongai spoke of a longing presence in their dreams that led them to the gates of the Seireitei.

Hitsugaya frowned, challenging the assumed normality. “That – among other things,” he stated, but with no admittance for what those precise influences actually were willingly dropping from his lips, Shuuhei figured that would be a story for another time.

So, in summary; Hitsugaya and his zanpakuto needed to communicate ASAP. Yet that was unlikely to happen until the officer felt he was capable of actually touching the hilt of his blade, instead of the contradictory yearning movement he was currently displaying with his sweaty palms hovering restlessly over the metal. His self-esteem and feelings of control needed to be improved – the former, challenging; the latter, a psychological nightmare. There were a couple of methods that Shuuhei could use; a gentle, systematic ease like a cautious descent into a hot tub, or a sudden, dynamic flood of scathing water – supremely effective, but ghastly unethical. It also carried the slight chance of amplifying the individual’s apprehension, but as long as Hitsugaya consented to going through with it, Shuuhei figured there was no reason it wouldn’t work. Yet… he wasn’t cruel enough to put Hitsugaya in that situation. It would be likely that any trust between them would rapidly unravel under the distress of the procedure. Furthermore, even if it was successful and Hitsugaya’s fear of his zanpakuto was overcome, Shuuhei was not the person to make the call if it would be worth it.

Slow and steady it was then.

“Alright then,” he said aloud, wondering how confident he came across when Hitsugaya’s back straightened. “I think trust is the biggest issue here. Your zanpakuto is your other half, and if you aren’t confident that they will protect and guide you, then how can you hope to bond with them? The simplest thing you can do is meditate – you probably already know, but slipping into your inner world and reaching for your zanpakuto is the easiest way of building up a relationship with them. Your zanpakuto is already the most compatible being to you that you will ever meet, so the only things you need to work on are trust and meeting each other’s needs. And because meditation clearly isn’t working for you (otherwise we wouldn’t be sitting here) then before you can do that we need to get you to understand that Hyorinmaru is approachable. He’s… on your side, so to speak. I’m pretty sure he wants to talk to you too.”

Hitsugaya remained firmly resolute, but he seemed desperate to hide his wavering hands. Shuuhei wasn’t sure if that was a positive sign or not, but either way the action would hopefully be extinguished if his plan actually working. He felt it uncomfortable that there was little he could do personally to assist Hitsugaya, but zanpakuto bonds were extremely private and building one was solely Hitsugaya’s job. It wasn’t only his _responsibility_ however. Shuuhei had already thrown the die; he was going to help through thick and thin. Hitsugaya – and Hyorinmaru – deserved nothing less.

“So what do I do now?” asked the younger officer uncertainly. “Meditate?”

He appeared wholly reluctant at the idea. Shuuhei supposed it was just as well he had something else in mind. “Nope – get up, I want to spar with you today and I want you to observe.”

Already climbing to his feet, Hitsugaya’s brows furrowed at the lacking explanation. “Observe what?” he asked. He scanned Shuuhei’s posture and determined facial expression for any clues.

Drawing his zanpakuto from his sheath, the Fourth Seat laughed. “If I told you, that wouldn’t be very objective, would it?”

Hitsugaya mirrored the action with haste, his tiny hands barely fitting around the diameter of Hyorinmaru’s stunning hilt. He scowled openly with a disgruntled expression of annoyance. “The bond between a shinigami and their zanpakuto is a subjective process,” he argued.

Shuuhei cheered inwardly at the bite to Hitsugaya’s words but wasn’t about to back down. “Fighting isn’t!” he replied. “Now – zanjutsu, hakuda, and hoho only. No kido or shikai permitted. Okay?”

Hitsugaya nodded.

They bowed.

 

 

Quite miraculously, the male divide of the more reputable of the shinigami onsens was unoccupied that afternoon. It truly was such a sight to behold that Shuuhei almost dared not disturb the beckoning rolls of steam and tranquil silence of the invisible barbarians that usually inhabited the volcanic haven. Padding across the cool ground with water-logged footsteps and an equally drowned officer swaying along behind, the Fourth Seat prayed for a mere hour of the exceptional hush and sank into the water. Seemingly two dozen smaller steps behind was Hitsugaya, hair flattened to his scalp in a symmetrical emphasis of his customary frown and low, exhausted eyes glaring at the water with a sore expression of loathing desire. The part of Shuuhei that felt a little bad (and it was most of him) beckoned the boy into the onsen to relax. The other part wanted desperately to laugh, for Hitsugaya slithered into the pool like a melting snowman and merged into the ripples of the water.

They had sparred for hours. Shuuhei had been impressed with Hitsugaya’s thorough display of skills and determination, but it was still ultimately the unseated officer who eventually couldn’t stabilise his feet beneath him. The spar hadn’t been about who could last the longest, however – no, Shuuhei had wanted to see if Hitsugaya could perceive the difference between them; how they held themselves, how they interacted with their zanpakuto. Partly Hitsugaya’s faults – though that was a strong word for them; the kid was a prodigy and he was very, very good – were due to his age and lack of experience. But there _had_ been problems that those factors wouldn’t have caused. Hitsugaya seemed to alternate between gripping his zanpakuto too tightly and too loosely – an unconscious refection of his incertitude – whereas Shuuhei wielded Kazeshini as if it were his arm. Effectively, precisely, and without hesitation. He still did not like to use his zanpakuto or harm others with it, but when it was in his hands his movements were instinctual; sloppy, contradicting zanjutsu would get him killed. Shuuhei hoped Hitsugaya had picked up on the subtle, yet enormous, issue. Given the boy’s wretched expression as he glared at something under the water, Shuuhei imagined the spar had been successful in that aspect.

Inhaling the sultry air with a deep, slow sigh, the Fourth Seat sank against the pebbled wall and closed his eyes. He allowed himself to enjoy the soak for just a few, well-earned minutes. A short distance away Hitsugaya stirred, the water flopping and rippling around him, but either in his unwillingness to disturb the peace or an uncertainty in what to say, he didn’t speak. A hush enveloped them, enticing them to talk, and Shuuhei almost drifted off into a light slumber at their reluctance to obey. He laughed as he jolted himself back into awareness (the night shift wasn’t far off now) and the dominating sound echoed around the enclosed space; Hitsugaya brushed some of his hair away from his ears, waiting patiently for something to be said.

“You did well today,” Shuuhei began earnestly, though the kid didn’t smile at the praise. Hitsugaya didn’t often smile at anything, but he had to have limits. “You’re definitely one of the most skilful recruits that’s ever joined the Ninth.”

“Thank you,” Hitsugaya said simply, downtrodden and exemplifying the opposite of the esteemed observation.

Shuuhei quirked an eyebrow. “What’s on your mind?”

Hitsugaya said nothing. Wondering if he’d picked up on false cues, Shuuhei gave no further prompting and slid deeper into the water. If the officer wanted to talk then he could talk – there was nothing stopping him except his own self-esteem and cognitive barricades. Shuuhei had an idea of how to deal with improving Hitsugaya’s views of himself, but whether or not both parties would be willing to cooperate on top of the method’s questionable effectiveness was another matter altogether. He would have just jump that hurdle when he came to it.

Or not jump it at all. Eleventh Division officers were little if not stubborn bastards.

The door to the onsen opened then, and Shuuhei almost huffed at the evident disturbance to their peace. There was only the hasty pitter-patter of one set of footsteps, however, so he considered himself fortunate and refrained from glaring through the thickening breaths of the water at the haze of tattoos partly hidden behind a mane of scarlet hair –

“Yo Shuuhei!”

_Oh god._

Renji flopped into the pool, cackling at something across the room. “Come on moron!” he called, tugging his ponytail higher up his scalp. He beckoned somebody else into the room and Shuuhei didn’t even have to look to know who it was.

“Piss off!” Ikkaku Madarame roared in the distance, no doubt clutching a towel in one hand and his zanpakuto in the other as was customary.

Renji’s howl of laughter erupted into a shout of fear as the bald Eleventh Division member barrelled through the wooden doors and plummeted into the onsen, grappling his red haired friend and wrestling him under the surface. Shuuhei flattened himself against the parallel edge, expression set firmly into indignation at the sight, questioning how he had come to be friends with such a pair of apes. Said apes continued to punch and kick their opponent into submission, shouting profanities and curses at each other. It was an innate Eleventh Division way – there was no doubt – so the Ninth Division Fourth Seat felt no qualms about leaving them to it (except for the psychological well-being of the staff, perhaps). He held no illusion that the rowdy duo would stop before exhaustion anyway.

“You are such a fucking arsehole,” hissed Renji, attempting to shove himself out of the headlock Ikkaku held him in. “Get off me.”

The bald man laughed manically. “Giving up already are we? Always knew you were a –”

Renji burst free from the hold and dragged them both back under with an aggressive vengeance. Limbs, shrieks, and scaling hot water exploded outwards in a dance of a drowning cat, and Shuuhei sighed at the immaturity, willing himself to tune his friends out. There were better things he could be spending his time doing than experiencing second-hand embarrassment from the two nut-jobs he frequently hung out with. Relaxing, for one. Retrieving his sanity, for another.

It wasn’t until he plastered a hand across the burning skin of his face that he registered the creeping chill to the water. It was subtle enough that he distrusted the receptors in his skin for a moment, his brain questioning the logic behind a cooling pool of steaming water, but even as he dipped his fingers back under the surface the temperature continued to fall. The haze of warmth blurring his vision started to lift in clarity, but just mere feet away Ikkaku and Renji didn’t appear to notice the change to the water. Shuuhei frowned, perplexed, and then something cracked and groaned like ice reaching its deathly claws across the naivety of a captive lake.

He glanced sideways, pushing a hand through the slushy, frigid water to clasp the corpse-like white of Hitsugaya’s frozen arm. A sheet of translucent ice was stretching out around the young recruit, so delicate that it appeared to float upon the water’s surface, but there was no mistaking the veins of reiryoku spiralling through it. Shuuhei called the boy’s name firmly, pressing his sweltering hand into the hoarfrost of Hitsugaya’s skin and burning his gaze into the wintry blue of the cold, vacant eyes. Hitsugaya didn’t respond to his superior officer’s voice, but the two Eleventh Division officers froze in their squabble and lifted equally curious eyes to the storming prodigy brewing a blizzard above the onsen.

Hitsugaya’s glare was dragon-worthy.

“ _Pack it in_ ,” commanded the ice wielder.

Even the menacing snapping of the frost couldn’t conceal the yelps from the lips of the two fully grown men still violently tangled together. Shuuhei couldn’t discern whose was more pathetic over the roaring of his own laughter. If he had to hazard a guess it would have been Renji’s as the man was currently eyeing the branches of ice with an expression of someone who had been victim to its relentless talons before. On the other hand Ikkaku seemed quite impressed, though the Fourth Seat hardly gave his friend a second-glance as the bitter tension began to sooth its way out of Hitsugaya’s glacial limbs.

Hitsugaya melted into the onsen, visibly startled at his own behaviour, and allowed the thriving fires of his cheeks to warm the water. Shuuhei relaxed his wary grip and hovered, trying his best to ignore the reflection of his shock plastered across the faces of his friends.

“Err,” Renji began, disentangling himself from Ikkaku. He patted the equally calmed bald man on the shoulder for good measure, shifting cautiously to avoid the receding ice. “Who’s your friend Shuuhei?”

Noting that Hitsugaya wasn’t going to introduce himself in favour of devolving into a single-celled water-dwelling organism, the Fourth Seat coughed pointedly. “This is Tōshirō Hitsugaya. Hitsugaya-san, this is Renji Abarai and Ikkaku Madarame of the Eleventh Division.”

No pleasantries were exchanged between them. The fact that nobody suffered frostbite was enough to forgo such necessity.

“Got yourself a firecracker there,” Ikkaku praised, laughing.

‘Fire’ was not a word that Shuuhei would think to associate with Hitsugaya, but he could appreciate the reasoning behind it. There was something frighteningly scathing about the boy’s blazing temper, though having never seen the embers scorch out of their arctic fort before, Shuuhei was overwhelmed by the brief display. Hitsugaya was humble and quiet as he worked around the Ninth Division, but Shuuhei was delighted to have witnessed the inner strength that he had _known_ the younger officer to possess. That one who resided a dragon spirit would be without power was unimaginable. Though Hitsugaya preserved his under lock and key, that he was capable and willing to use it was one step towards achieving balance with his zanpakuto. If Shuuhei could draw out the core of Hitsugaya’s personality, then Hyorinmaru’s nature would be revealed.

Possibly. Hopefully. If Hitsugaya actually agreed to go through with the next stage of his plan.

“Oooh,” said Renji, the significance of the name having finally registered in his mind. “ _This_ is the squirt you’ve been fussing over.”

“I do not _fuss_ –”

“Yo kiddo,” the redhead continued, cutting across Shuuhei’s irate cry of outrage. “How’s the Ninth treating ya? The Seireitei’s built of the foundations of a load of pompous assholes if you ask me, but it’s got its merits I suppose.”

“Lots of people to fight,” Ikkaku supplied, showing all of his teeth as he grinned.

“Free food,” Renji added.

“A bed,” said Ikkaku.

“A pleasant haven to have a bath in peace and quiet?” Shuuhei asked, rolling his eyes. His friends were silent for a moment, a meaningful look passing between them, before both men erupted into laughter at the wistfulness of the comment. The raven haired man sighed, but he was smiling. “Yeah, somehow I didn’t think so.”

Hitsugaya watched the exchange without a sound, his firm-set mouth hidden under the ripples of their amusement, but his eyes were alert and contemplating something Shuuhei could only fathom. The boy did not speak for the next half an hour as they relaxed in the onsen, though his fiery outburst made up for his inability to hold one end of a conversation. The three friends were talkative enough by themselves, even if the two Eleventh Division officers were notably more subdued than when they arrived.

 _Maybe I should bring Hitsugaya with me more often_ , Shuuhei mused. In the corner of his eye Hitsugaya pulled a towel off of his head and sighed exasperatedly at the half-flattened bird nest of snow atop his head. Shuuhei had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing.

The punch Ikkaku planted into his shoulder came as no surprise. “Heya,” said the man, and behind him a hairband pinged out of Renji’s hands and flew across the room. “Catch you later, yeah? I’ve roped Yumichika into sparring on Thursday so you have to come along.”

As the statement didn’t expect a reply, Shuuhei had to cough to have his say when Ikkaku turned away. “Actually,” he said, hoping his plan was going to work. “Can you pass on a message to Yumichika for me?”

Ikkaku shrugged nonchalantly.

When the two Ninth Division officers arrived back at the division, Hitsugaya hardly glanced at the mounds of food in the canteen before declaring that he would rather be sleeping. Shuuhei couldn’t blame him, but with the night watch ever nearing he grabbed a coffee to keep himself going as they prepared to part.

After their standard farewell, Hitsugaya seemed to hesitate. Shuuhei sipped at his coffee lazily, as if it were lulling him to sleep rather than electrocuting his brain into gear.

“Hisagi-senpai,” asked Hitsugaya, lifting his gaze and posture. “Who’s Yumichika-san?”

Shuuhei almost snorted the drink up his nose, which clearly wasn’t a promising sign as Hitsugaya’s expression tightened. “Ah – sorry. Never mind,” the young officer muttered, watching the Fourth Seat hack unattractively.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Shuuhei assured, scowling at his coffee. Hitsugaya was far more observant than people gave him credit for. “Yumichika’s another Eleventh Division officer. I’ve – er – asked him to help with your training so if it all goes to plan you’ll meet him soon enough.”

He smiled. Hitsugaya’s stare remained hard and steady.

“Er,” Shuuhei added uselessly, floundering like a child in the face of his mother’s scolding. “You’ll like him?”

Hitsugaya seemed appeased with that, and bowed. Shuuhei returned the farewell and held back a sigh under the recruit had disappeared into the waves of yawning shinigami.

The kid was terrifying sometimes.

So was Yumichika.

Shuuhei needed to engrave the scene before him into his memory forever.

“I see what you mean,” hummed Yumichika the next day, sweeping a calculating gaze across the helpless form of the wintry unseated officer. Hitsugaya was scowling like an animal trapped in a corner, which wasn’t a terrible analogy considering the predacious gleam to Yumichika’s eyes.

They were out in the sunshine of the Ninth Division public gardens. Shuuhei was the only one who seemed like he was enjoying it.

“This is going to be a bit of a handful, isn’t it?” said the Eleventh Division officer. He tapped his jaw thoughtfully and cocked his head, continuing to hum. Shuuhei’s grin was uncontrollable and it deepened Hitsugaya’s frown.

“Um,” said Hitsugaya in reply to the rhetoric question. Even a deaf man could hear the underlying insults to the observations. It was Shuuhei’s favourite part of the Yumichika’s personality, but Hitsugaya was doing well in keeping a calm, level head. “What exactly are we going to be doing, Ayasegawa-san?”

Probably something utterly demoralising and completely barbaric, given Yumichika’s nature, and the faint quirk to the shinigami’s lips implied as much. Wondering if he had made a terrible mistake, Shuuhei lifted a questioning eyebrow at the Eleventh Division officer, repeating the question about Hitsugaya’s fate. Despite the off-chance that he was being ghastly stereotypical at the presumption, Shuuhei had a feeling that Yumichika was the perfect person to assist in increasing Hitsugaya’s self-esteem. That Yumichika hadn’t turned his nose up at the idea when asked to help was a good sign, and that he’d actually turned up at the Ninth Division was an even better one.

Hitsugaya’s expression, on the other hand, left much to be desired. Shuuhei couldn’t really blame him – he wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of Yumichika’s methods either.

The peacock feathered man hummed, tilting his head to assess the dark haired man standing beside him. Shuuhei shifted his weight between his feet, hoping that keeping his teeth clenched was the correct course of action under the scrutiny.

Seemingly satisfied, Yumichika nodded. “Give me a week,” he said decisively. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“A week?” Shuuhei echoed, unable to hide the surprise from his face. “You sure?”

“He’s not _that_ bad,” was the affronted argument. It was followed by a dismissive wave. Hitsugaya scowled and Shuuhei laughed nervously.

“No, I mean –”

“And I’m _very good_ ,” Yumichika added. “I’ll give him back to you whole, I promise.”

Shuuhei couldn’t be certain, he was pretty sure the muttered ‘Yeah, in a whole lot of _pieces’_ dropped from Hitsugaya’s lips and not his own, though that didn’t mean to say he wasn’t thinking the same thing. Yumichika’s smile doubled in its innocent gleam.

“Eh sure,” said the Fourth Seat, sealing Hitsugaya’s destiny. He definitely didn’t imagine the shiver that trickled down his arms. “One week it is then.”

“Wonderful,” said Yumichika.

 _I hate you_ , said Hitsugaya’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it.
> 
> \- kouhai = inverse of senpai/sempai; lower social class; rude to face  
> \- san = general politeness; same social class  
> \- senpai/sempai - mentor/senior/upper classman (both versions are strictly correct - I just prefer the former)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of An Affinity for Ashes, so thank you for being patient with this story. This chapter just wouldn't start – and then as luck would have it, it wouldn't stop. I can't believe how long it is (almost 10k omg).
> 
> Please enjoy!
> 
> Also, I'm playing with canon a little – wiki says Shuuhei's position as lieutenant was preceded by 'eventually Mashiro Kuna' but I'm sticking another lieutenant in between them because I need to :)

Shuuhei was pretty chuffed with himself, all things considered. Recruiting Yumichika into assisting with the demanding challenge of building up Hitsugaya's self-esteem had been a truly brilliant idea. Though the Ninth Division Fourth Seat considered himself somewhat extraverted and highly approachable, the Eleventh Division officer was definitely a better option for shaping Hitsugaya's personality into a reflexion of his true potential. No-nonsense confidence shaped Yumichika's reiryoku – it had to, in the Eleventh Division – so if he was unable to at least give Hitsugaya pointers in the right direction, then nobody could.

At least, that's what Shuuhei seemed to think. With Hitsugaya in the Eleventh Division officer's clutches for a week, he saw less of the little shinigami than he would have liked. With Shuuhei's position as the Fourth Seat, his duties were often parallel to officers unseated as Hitsugaya was, so all he caught of the ice-wielder were occasional flashes of white in corridors or the remains of a chill out in the grounds. Still, on the off chance that they did bump into each other in the canteen or such, Shuuhei took the time to ask him how he was faring and to silently gauge any changes in the boy's posture or ability.

For the first few days, little appeared to have changed in Hitsugaya's demeanour except for the increasing permanent nature of his glower. Shuuhei had absolutely _no idea_ what (torturous) things Yumichika was putting the kid through, but the icy scowl spoke volumes when Hitsugaya's withdrawn personality refused to elaborate. He confronted Yumichika about it after the second time Hitsugaya's glare threatened to make him whimper, but the flamboyant officer simply waved off his concerns and assured Shuuhei that nothing was happening that Hitsugaya hadn't agreed to.

(Not exactly the most reassuring thing he could have been told).

Shuuhei remained doubtful, so he kept his eyes peeled. Hitsugaya's next bitter scowl was one even a blind man couldn't miss anyway – with the frost cracking down the corridor towards the dormitories, the young officer was an approaching storm of thunder and lightning. Having been looking for the boy (but now half wishing he hadn't been), Shuuhei wisely tucked himself against the closest wall to avoid being squashed as Hitsugaya strode past.

Hitsugaya only took a second of his advance to fire his most lethal glare at the Fourth Seat and snarl;

" _Feathers_."

The dormitory door slammed behind him. One of the fluffy feathers hidden in his hair tumbled out and drifted down to the floor, sinfully innocent and entirely unexplained.

Shuuhei waited until he was far, _far_ away before roaring with laughter. The Fifth Seat gave him a weird look and shuffled to the side, wary of the extravagant behaviour. Nonplussed, Shuuhei scrambled together a Hell Butterfly to the Eleventh Division, hoping to uncover some explanation for the bizarre turn of events, but Yumichika's brief reply was just as cryptic as before;

"Actions have consequences," the butterfly relayed when it returned, slowing opening and closing its wings as it perched on Shuuhei's finger. "He knows what he's getting into, don't worry. I promised to return him whole so there's only _so much_ I can do. He'll be perfectly fine."

That was the extent of the message, and the Hell Butterfly drifted off without waiting for Shuuhei to gather his thoughts together into a reply. Granted, the Fourth Seat wasn't sure what to say anyway, so he figured there was no real reason to complain. No matter how miffed Hitsugaya appeared about whatever he was being subject to, Shuuhei hadn't once seen him harmed over the past few days. Yumichika was helping with the kid's self-esteem, not combat ability, so unless Hitsugaya's schedule involved being thrown at rowdy Eleventh Division officers and having screaming matches with them to boost his self-confidence, Shuuhei wasn't expecting the kid to need to draw his zanpakuto at all.

Although, he hoped Hitsugaya was meditating with Hyorinmaru. Before handing him over to Yumichika, Shuuhei had left one single instruction: _talk to Hyorinmaru – five minutes, two hours, it doesn't matter right now, but you have to try and communicate with him_. It was not something Hitsugaya wanted to do in any shape or form, but Shuuhei had been firm about it. He could only point Hitsugaya in the right direction – the intricate process of mending the bond between zanpakuto and shinigami was something only the pair could do themselves.

After the revelation of his shikai, Shuuhei had seldom spoken to Kazeshini for a long while. He didn't want Hitsugaya to go through the same.

Shuuhei was fortunate that his zanpakuto was a stubborn mule – one who refused to be ignored – because he didn't think he ever would have spoken to Kazeshini again by his own force of will.

( **You're an arsehole and I hate you** , the zanpakuto had grumbled after the shinigami had stepped into their inner world for the first time in months, peering around nervously.

 _Guess you're right_ , Shuuhei had replied, unable to deny the truth in the dark spirit's words. _I'm sorry._

Kazeshini's laughter had been ruthless. **That's a pathetic apology.**

 _I know,_ Shuuhei had whispered, because he _had_ known. Ignoring his zanpakuto had been childish, and he had regretted it. The fear was real, but that had been no excuse for his behaviour.

_It was wrong of me. I –_

**Oh shut your trap, I can't bear to listen to you whine. Get lost and don't forget to call me now and then – you'll never survive on your own, dickhead.**

The zanpakuto had thus kicked him back into consciousness. Shuuhei had felt slightly annoyed at the rude behaviour, but Kazeshini had only laughed).

He didn't know how long Hitsugaya had gone without talking to Hyorinmaru, and his estimate about when he had learned the dragon's name and unlocked shikai had been vague. Still, a year (give or take a few months) was a long time to cease communication with your zanpakuto, but there was always hope.

Shuuhei sighed, flipping over the page of the hefty tome he was trying to read. The records were lacking in their knowledge about ice-type zanpakuto, and if they were still kept up to date then the last known wielder of one had died two decades ago. She wouldn't have helped much in dealing with Hyorinmaru's devastating attacks anyway – ranked no higher than a Tenth Seat in her career, her shikai had been undeveloped when she had died. From what Shuuhei had seen, Hyorinmaru's power was based primarily on manipulating the weather for hard-striking attacks, whereas the woman's zanpakuto had focused more on the _actual water_ itself. Still, if she had survived, she would have no doubt been a proficient teacher for Hitsugaya, but there was nothing Shuuhei could do about that.

(He would just have to hope that Yumichika was a good enough substitute).

He put the book aside and grabbed another one. It was getting late but he was determined to return the books to the central library before dinner.

They were of the Ninth Division. They persevered if nothing else.

 

 

"Oi Shuuhei," Renji droned the next day. He was leaning against the office doorway with such a slouch that Shuuhei almost threw a calligraphy brush at him when he glanced up and saw the red-head standing there. "I heard you unleashed Yumichika onto your twerp?"

Shuuhei rolled his eyes, beckoning his friend inside before he caused any trouble. "How did you even know I would be here? And I did not _unleash_ Yumichika," he said, checking the due date on his work as the Eleventh Division officer shuffled over. Renji's arrival nearly always led to hours upon hours of disarray and it was best to be safe – any non-urgent paperwork could be left for a safer day.

"You practically _live_ in this room," said the other man, swiftly glancing around before flopping onto the sofa. "Really, where else was I going to find you?"

Point. Shuuhei glared at him anyway, and Renji laughed.

"Come on, lighten up a little! You're almost as bad as Hitsugaya –"

" _Oh so you know his name_."

"– and he's a statue – _shut up_ , remembering names isn't easy alright – or, well, he was a statue. You should see him now. He's brilliant."

Resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and kick his friend back to the rowdy division he had escaped from, Shuuhei groaned. The Eleventh Division's version of 'brilliant' was not something he had wanted to risk Hitsugaya turning into, but he supposed involving Yumichika automatically involved Ikkaku, Renji, and a whole other heap of morons, so the consequences were predictable.

"Great," he grumbled, stacking away the work and moving to sit on the opposite sofa. He motioned to the brewed pot of tea for Renji to help himself if he wanted any, and then continued; "What have you done to him?"

"Me?" Renji cried, offended. "Nothing!"

Shuuhei swished around the last of his drink and wondered if raiding his dorm mate's stash of alcohol was a good idea. "You're smirking."

Caught red handed, Renji simply grinned. "Oh alright, I might have _teased_ him a little. Just a bit! Don't look at me like that! And I only locked him in a cupboard once! And maybe threw him about a tad. Tossed him in the pond – oh god, you should have seen his fucking _face_ –"

" _Renji_."

"It was funny!" the cackling man insisted, laughing boldly in the face of Shuuhei's glower. "Plus he takes it so _well_ – not at first obviously – he's _Ninth_ – but after that time he almost froze the onsen we were in I knew he had some bite in him. It just took a little coaxing to get it out, that's all."

Shuuhei groaned, rubbing his forehead. He could feel a headache coming on, and he had a suspicion it was only going to grow worse as the day progressed. Still, he couldn't deny that he was pleased to hear that Hitsugaya was… _getting along_ (if one could call it that) with the Eleventh Division officers. It had (kind of, in the long run perhaps) been his goal when he had asked Yumichika for help, but a small part of Shuuhei continued to worry as the red head rambled on. Hitsugaya wasn't delicate by any means, but Shuuhei executed a degree of caution when prompting the boy to interact and participate in social situations. The Eleventh Division, on the other hand, seemed to have no such restraint; a lamb in with the lions, Hitsugaya was fresh bait for their unruly, violent ways.

"– and I'll tell you Shuu," Renji went on, unaware that most of the conversation had been one-sided up to that point. "Hitsugaya's got this absolutely terrifying glare. You need to see it. Even _Ikkaku_ has grown wary of it –"

 _Huh_ , thought the Fourth Seat, burying his surprise as he watched as his friend laugh, joke, and appear _genuinely happy_ to talk about Hitsugaya and the week of mishaps around the division. There was no contempt in Renji's tone – the man wore his heart on his sleeve, so Shuuhei knew his friend wouldn't be able to completely hide his disdain. Instead, as the tales of the Eleventh Division and their newest 'member' were recounted, Renji spoke of how the rowdy gang of officers actually started to like Hitsugaya's aloof sarcasm towards _absolutely everything Shuuhei – where did you get this kid?_ At first, yes, they had treated the Ninth Division officer with the same guarded attitudes they treated all strangers, and, yes, the pranks ("– tests Shuuhei; we do things differently in the Eleventh") had been somewhat unnecessary, but Hitsugaya had eventually learned to stand his ground to overcome them.

…Maybe Shuuhei _had_ known what he was doing when he had sent the kid to Yumichika.

"The kid's a blast," Renji continued, laughing to himself. "And he's a total genius, but then I guess you don't need much to outwit most of the sods in the Eleventh – morons. But anyway, that's not actually why I'm here."

"It's not?" Shuuhei asked, pouring himself another cup of tea in lieu of raiding the sake cupboard. Offering the teapot to Renji, he wasn't surprised when the redhead shrugged and accepted a cup; tea wasn't Renji's preferred beverage, but free was free.

"Nah. Wanted to ask you out for a drink – tonight maybe? I can never remember when you have night shift so if you can't make it… well, Ikkaku and I'll probably go by ourselves. Yumichika said he's not coming and Izuru's busy. You in?"

Shuuhei considered it, sipping the cooling tea. Assuming he could get the rest of the paperwork on his desk completed after his friend high-tailed it back to the Eleventh, he supposed there was no reason for him not to go. It had been a while, after all, since he had joined the motley crew for drinks, and though chaos abound he always enjoyed himself.

"Alright," he replied, feeling like he had made the right choice when Renji _whooped_ and consequently threw the tea all over his lap, hissing wildly at the pain. "Eight o'clock?"

"Yeah, yeah," Renji blubbered hastily, desperately trying to mop up the burn. "Eight's fine – Jesus fuck I only just cleaned this bloody uniform. Meet at the usual?"

Shuuhei agreed and they finalised their plans, Renji still attempting to salvage his hakama all the while. The rest of his tea was left abandoned in the mug, but the Fourth Seat figured most of it was on the redhead's trousers anyway, so the remaining droplets wouldn't be missed. Eventually Renji admitted defeat and announced that he had to return – no doubt to change uniform, Shuuhei mused idly, hiding a smile in the rim of his cup – so they bid their farewells.

Although he enjoyed his friend's company, Shuuhei couldn't deny that Renji and the other rowdy Eleventh Division officers were far more manageable in small chunks. Once one worked their way past Renji's vulgarity and gruffness, it became apparent that the tattooed, thug-like man was contradictory to his stereotypes. He was by no means polite or noble-mannered, but Shuuhei knew that Renji could have acquired worse traits from his unfortunate upbringing in the Rukongai slums.

"Oh," said the Eleventh Division officer, stopping in the doorway as a thought occurred to him.

Shuuhei, who had just begun clearing around the tea set, straightened and answered with a questioning noise, prompting a sly smile to crack open on the other's already jubilant expression.

"You think Hitsugaya will wanna come?" Renji asked, his tattoos appearing to dance in the merriment of the man's demeanour.

The dark haired Fourth Seat stared at him like he had lost his mind. "No," he said simply, his tone short and sharp and asking _really, what sort of question is that?_ "I imagine he's not the get-piss-drunk type."

The only answer Renji gave to that was a thrilled bout of laughter as he slid the door shut behind him; "See you tonight Shuuhei!"

Peace settled back into the office; slowly, as if peaking around the corners for assurance that it was safe to do so. As he finished tidying up, Shuuhei wondered if he should send a Hell Butterfly forewarning Hitsugaya of the impending danger.

Or maybe he shouldn't.

Ignorance was a bliss after all.

 

 

By the time the guilt over not warning Hitsugaya of his unwilling involvement in their drinking fest had finally left Shuuhei to enjoy the evening, Renji and Ikkaku were in deep enough in alcohol to have evolved the ability to ignore the withering glower Hitsugaya was donning from the corner of the bar. Mostly sober and hoping to stay so, Shuuhei couldn't help but glance at the frosty expression occasionally. It _was_ a rather magnificent glare; a repeat of the onsen but twice as deadly, and Shuuhei supposed morbid fascination drove him to risk a peak. Each time he did the urge to ruffle the boy's hair sympathetically while laughing at the sheer absurdity of the situation overwhelmed him, so haste was required to find something else for his dozy vision to stare at.

Moreover, Hitsugaya apparently have no qualms against using _him_ as a target for his anger, and Renji hadn't been kidding when he said the kid had developed into something truly terrifying. What the Eleventh Division had done to the boy was beyond Shuuhei, but it was good to see Hitsugaya wield the dragon-personality that the Fourth Seat had known existed all along.

There was no way the young recruit's shyness was anything but a façade with the majestic spirit of his soul after all.

Still, Shuuhei had no idea how the Eleventh Division officers had succeeded in dragging Hitsugaya along. Shuuhei knew his friend too well to know that Renji hadn't been joking earlier in the Ninth, but he had never actually imagined that Hitsugaya would be present when he turned up that evening at the bar. If the icy boy was as adept at handling the unruly brutes of the Eleventh as rumour suggested, then shouldn't he have been able to talk (or bully – depending on which rumours were to be believed) his way out of this disastrous situation?

Either Hitsugaya secretly liked the prospect of getting plastered (laughable) or he had an agenda unknown to Shuuhei, and considering the damning scowl on the boy's face, Shuuhei wasn't sure he would bet on either of those possibilities.

"Yo Shuu, you want another drink?"

Renji was watching him expectantly, shaking an empty bottle in question as he motioned towards the bar. The Fourth Seat raised an eyebrow, noting that the redhead's cheeks were just a shade paler than his hair, and shook his head. He still had most of his own drink left, but that wasn't surprising considering he had spent more time enjoying his friends' drunken stupor than drinking himself into his own one. He was determined to stay mostly sober, so his single bottle would have to endure the night.

"Suit yourself – you want anything kid?"

Making the same motion to Hitsugaya was futile, but Renji gave his drink a waggle anyway.

"No," said Hitsugaya, his voice the frost cracking the windows. It was probably the nickname more than the actual question that struck a nerve, and Shuuhei moulded further with his seat either way, trying to escape the approaching danger in the air. From the corner of the table Ikkaku laughed at something only he was witness to. His laughter was deafening and drunk over the silent confrontation.

Hitsugaya glanced from Renji to Shuuhei and then gave a little sigh.

"Thank you," he whispered, the steel of his spine seeming to crumble away. A red flush passed across the pale of his complexion – just briefly – before a deep breath chilled it away. "I'll pass."

Unable to help himself, Shuuhei grinned around the lip of the bottle. He felt dazed with a happiness so unexpected that he took a hearty swig, letting the warming liquid burn inside of his gut with the sudden feeling of pride.

(Put together Ninth Division conduct and Eleventh Division ruthlessness and what did you get?

Something brutally gracious and graciously brutal).

Renji tumbled off to replenish his oncoming hangover, drawing Hitsugaya's focus back to plotting a fool-proof method to surviving the evening. Shuuhei waited until Ikkaku was thoroughly distracted with the taste of the bliss in the sake dish before risking conversation, hoping that Renji's interruption had quelled Hitsugaya's icy anger;

"How's Yumichika-san treating you?"

Hitsugaya didn't say anything for a long while. That was telling enough on its own, and Shuuhei laughed at the conflict in the officer's expression.

"It's alright, I know Yumichika's an… interesting character. I hope he hasn't been too outlandish for you?"

"No, he's patient," Hitsugaya agreed, and then he cringed at his choice of words, rolling another on his tongue before correcting his statement; "Sometimes. He has an outlook that I've never come across before." He almost shrugged, looking unsure. "It's nice."

The part of Shuuhei's brain wired for 'Hitsugaya-talk' instantly translated that to: _he doesn't think I'm a freak so I'm giving him a chance_.

Blunt and flowery Yumichika may be, judging people for their appearance was not in his character. Shuuhei smiled, pleased, and tipped his bottle towards Hitsugaya in the impression of a toast. "Feathers aside, I take it?" he asked, thinking back to his encounter with the frosty lad, storming the corridors and shedding a dozen fluffy feathers.

Hitsugaya promptly scowled, his recollection of the scene far less amusing than Shuuhei's memory. Unable to help himself at the reaction, Shuuhei rumbled a laugh and sipped his drink, wondering if asking about the context of the odd event all those days ago would be adding salt to the wound or not.

"I suppose nobody is perfect," Hitsugaya muttered. He raised his drink to his mouth to hide the fact that he was chewing his lip to red and raw. Shuuhei almost said something in reply to that – he wasn't deaf, he could hear that Hitsugaya wasn't just referring to Yumichika – but then the little officer continued with a shrug, pushing misery and self-doubt aside;

"Apparently I'm an honorary Eleventh Division member now."

The Fourth Seat choked, hacking to free a wheeze from his airways; "I – I'm so sorry?"

Hitsugaya rolled his eyes, but he looked more entertained at his colleague's behaviour than anything else. "I can't say I mind," he admitted quietly, though there was no real need for his voice to be lowered over the drunken roaring of their two Eleventh companions.

Raising a doubtful eyebrow was the best response Shuuhei could think of. The unfortunate souls of the neighbouring divisions who ended up tangled with the Eleventh scarcely ever said they _didn't mind_ the wild nature of the men who reside there. (In fact, most of the Ninth Division officers who fall victim to the Eleventh end up thrown into the Fourth – not invited to the _pub_ ).

But then… There had always been _something_ about Hitsugaya, hadn't there?

(Something hurt and lonely and _dangerous_ ).

"They're not as annoying as the Lieutenant," Hitsugaya clarified after a moment, risking a glance at the duo cackling to themselves at the other end of the table.

"The Eleventh Division lieutenant?" Shuuhei whispered, hoping to God that somebody in favour of said lieutenant didn't overhear their slanderous discussion. (Like the captain, for instance).

The sharp shake to Hitsugaya's head was almost frantic in its denial. "Tenth," he corrected, and Shuuhei hummed in understanding, thinking back to his brief encounter with the Lieutenant Matsumoto when Hitsugaya had been hospitalised in the Fourth Division. It had been clear they the two were acquainted, though Shuuhei was no closer to comprehending how exactly the little mousey boy had stumbled into the Tenth Division's radar.

He would assume, quite superficially, that the Lieutenant was drawn to Hitsugaya's appearance and intellect like so many others were ( _or weren't_ , the Fourth Seat figured), but he doubted Hitsugaya would subject himself to being fawned over for such a shallow reason. _Perhaps they had a mutual friend_ , Shuuhei wondered, _or maybe they truly were friends themselves_.

The scowl that endured upon Hitsugaya's frigid expression whenever Lieutenant Matsumoto came up in conversation implied the latter was unlikely.

Shuuhei considered his next question carefully, but if working for the _Seireitei Communication_ had taught him nothing else, then he knew that asking directly was the only sure-fire way of getting the answers one wanted.

"Do you spend time with the Tenth Division lieutenant often?"

Hitsugaya shrugged, swishing around his drink. Shuuhei had seen that action expressed many times before in the boy – one of anxiety and no small amount of reluctance – and he had to resist the moment of surprise that threatened to pass across his tipsy features. Lieutenant Matsumoto was not a topic of discussion that Shuuhei had expected to elicit a reserved response from Hitsugaya – but maybe, by sheer chance, the boisterous woman had something to do with the _one other thing_ that Hitsugaya was reluctant to talk about?

"No," the younger officer eventually replied, considering his words. "Her duties require a vast amount of time, and we're not in the same division so she scarcely has any reason to journey over to the Ninth."

Although not verbalised, there was a hint of relief in his tone; _thank god_ , it seemed to say.

"She hounds me," Hitsugaya grumbled, but he still didn't plainly admit his suffering. "She thinks I'm _cute_."

 _Well you kind of are_ , Shuuhei definitely did not say.

(Somewhere amidst the piercing glacial blue of Hitsugaya's eyes, Shuuhei knew there was an ability to turn thoughts into blushing admittances of guilt and lay them bear for exactly what they were).

(Definitely too perceptive for his own good, Hitsugaya was).

"But you put up with her?" the Fourth Seat asked, prompting the conversation past his momentary blunder.

Again, Hitsugaya shrugged. The period between his answers was longer this time; long enough for an extraordinarily drunk Renji to tumble his way across the room and roar something so profoundly rude that Shuuhei had to spend a subsequent ten minutes bribing some random customer from strangling the idiot. By the time he returned to his seat with his blubbering red-faced, red-haired friend and literally handcuffed the moron to the table with a kido, the question hanging between he and his sane companion was almost entirely forgotten.

Instead, Shuuhei scowled at his drink and tried to block out the struggle of his friend trying to drag the table along the floor to freedom. Christ, most of his common sense was glad he had decided to stay sober, but a little part of him was still cringing under the disapproving glare from the bartender.

("Calm your friend or I'll calm him for you. Understand?"

 _Yes ma'am_ had been the second wisest response. Handcuffing Renji to the table had been the first).

"I'm sorry you got dragged along to this," Shuuhei sighed, hoping the chill he could feel trickling up his arms was just his imagination. Honestly, he was surprised Hitsugaya had stayed this long in the madhouse Renji and Ikkaku had probably blackmailed him to.

"I've been subject to worse, believe me," Hitsugaya replied. He pressed his lips together as if he wanted to elaborate, and then trailed the cool of his gaze from Renji's ignorance to Shuuhei's guilty smile. Shuuhei didn't know what the boy saw, but after a moment little shoulders shrugged and seemed to disappear further into Hitsugaya's oversized uniform. "Lieutenant Matsumoto has made it her job to _introduce_ me to the _finer_ aspects of life in the Seireitei."

The Fourth Seat raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure, but it sounded like Hitsugaya was under the Tenth Division's wing just as much as he was under the Ninth's – something, he realised after a second's consideration, would probably do him a lot of good. (The same might be said for the Eleventh, though continuing the _wings_ analogy was debatable. _Claws and talons_ would be more fitting, perhaps). "I take it you mean –?"

"Alcohol?" Renji asked, leaning over to interrupt the conversation with the slur of his tongue. The two Ninth Division officers turned to him, levelling him with flat, unimpressed expressions. (Hitsugaya's, it had to be noticed, was far superior; though miffed at the moronic behaviour of his friend, the sake Shuuhei had consumed was compelling him smirk).

"Yes Abarai-san, among other things."

Renji looked quite pleased with himself as he returned to coercing Ikkaku into setting him free; the mind of the intoxicated clearly a brief and sporadic thing. Though just as drunk, Ikkaku didn't look like he wanted to assist to any degree, rather preferring to laugh at Renji's misfortune and wave alcohol out of his reach.

"You might as well drop the respect," Shuuhei noted, watching them both before sharing a glance with Hitsugaya. "He's not exactly in a position to deserve any – are you Renji?"

"Whazzat?" said the man.

Shuuhei finished off his drink with a smile. "See?"

Inclining his head to concur, Hitsugaya said nothing.

The smile could have been Shuuhei's drunken imagination, but somehow he doubted it.

 

 

"Thank you," Shuuhei said later that night, having pulled Yumichika aside before the man, looking far too calm for someone with two drunkards drooling over his sobriety, lugged his comrades back to the Eleventh Division. "For helping. A week ago I don't think Hitsugaya-san ever would have turned up at a bar, blackmailed or not. I guess he just needed a little bit of prompting."

"No," said Yumichika, shaking his head. It wasn't quite a smile he turned to Shuuhei, but it was something close; something like approval. "What he needed was to be thrown into a situation he didn't like and told to _make friends or die trying_."

There was silence between them for a moment, broken only by Ikkaku and Renji's squabbling.

"So," Shuuhei replied, coughing awkwardly. "You mean…?"

 _Smug_ didn't quite cover Yumichika's returning expression. "The Eleventh Division of course. Where else?"

"Oh," said Shuuhei vaguely, gesturing with his hand to here, there, and everywhere. "I'm sure Hitsugaya-san can think of a few places."

 

 

Now that Hitsugaya was back to spending his free time in the sane confines of the Ninth Division, Shuuhei figured he would be seeing far more of the little officer. As the fates would have it, this turned out not to be true, but though considered the fourth most influential man in the division, there was nothing Shuuhei could do to counteract a lieutenant's orders. Thus, the morning following the (arguably) enjoyable night in the bar, Hitsugaya's squad was selected for a patrol mission out in South Rukongai's Seventeenth district. Shuuhei didn't find out until three hours after they had departed (a blunder he subjected the guilty Eighth Seat to his most frightful glower for), but by then there was no possible way for him to wish Hitsugaya a safe return.

The Fifth Seat, still reluctant to hold the prodigy in favour, thought it was hilarious, although he had learnt to keep comments like that to himself after the last time. That didn't prevent him from rolling his eyes every time Shuuhei hopefully eyed the reports for any updates however. Shuuhei tried to ignore the greying man as much as possible, though the similarity between their timetables often made this a difficult endeavour.

"Really Hisagi-san," the Fifth Seat sighed eventually, waving away a Hell Butterfly to continue with its duty. "You _know_ a report won't come in for at least a week – worry after that, not before. You don't want anyone to think you're skipping your duties to check up on _one_ kid, do you?"

"I'm not skipping my duties," Shuuhei argued, although the denial came out more like a sigh even as he tied up another stack of paperwork for delivery. "I am perfectly capable of organising my time, and Hitsugaya-san's not just _one kid_."

The Fifth Seat hummed; a sound Shuuhei was sure haunted his dreams. Though he was technically the one with higher authority, Takahashi was his senior and thus knew the workings of the Ninth Division better than he did, something that Shuuhei looked up to. It was, however, the only thing about the man that Shuuhei admired – Takahashi had a loose tongue and the prejudice of age, reluctant to allow change. They butted heads often, though the only reason arguing was kept at a minimum was because Shuuhei preferred to solve his problems _any_ other way.

"Well what is he then?" asked Takahashi, gathering up Shuuhei's paperwork and summoning another Hell Butterfly. It drifted in through the sound of Shuuhei's silence, finding a place on the Fifth Seat's pale finger just as the elder laughed, sending the delicate creature flopping through the air. "Oh shoot –"

Rolling his eyes, Shuuhei watched Takahashi fumble of catch the butterfly with a flicker of satisfaction behind his smile. _He's better company than you, that's for sure_ , the Fourth Seat thought idly, returning to his work. _Less clumsy too. And he's not an idiot_.

Shuuhei fought back a laugh as Takahashi desperately tried to stick the leg of the communication device back on from where it sat squashed in his palm.

Honestly, if someone like Takahashi could achieve Fifth Seat, then Hitsugaya becoming anything less than a captain would be an insult.

 _A mission in the Seventeenth district will be no problem_ , Shuuhei decided, wiping ink from his hand. _Hitsugaya-san will be back soon and he won't end up at the Fourth Division this time_.

As it turned out, his prediction was only half right.

"The lieutenant's dead."

The announcement was uttered half a week later by some nameless officer, red-faced and breathing hard; Hell Butterflies were too impersonal to declare such tragedy, and so the news spread from mouth to mouth, growing quieter and quieter as it reached the heart of the division. Even so, Shuuhei couldn't have missed the declaration even if he was deaf – his conversation with the Tenth and Third seats ended abruptly, their expressions paling into white-faced shock.

" _What_?" hissed the Third Seat, whipping around so fast that her ponytail almost swatted the messenger across the face. The panting officer cringed away her glare, spluttering the news between anxious gasps, and Shuuhei couldn't blame him. If the lieutenant really wasn't with them anymore then Nomura-san was now the second most powerful shinigami in the division, and Shuuhei didn't need to read her mind to know she _definitely_ didn't fancy the idea of a promotion into such a dangerous position.

"Speak clearly boy!" snapped the Tenth Seat, which only prompted the messenger to flounder even more.

"He was leading a patrol team out into the South Rukongai, sir, Seventeenth district! Apparently they were ambushed and split up for a few days, and by the time communication could be re-established some of the team had wandered into the further districts, and the only medic on the team had been killed. The lieutenant was killed on the border of the Twentieth district when he went looking for them – what was left of the team were ordered to maintain their location, but eventually they decided to go after him because they had no means of contacting anyone. They've brought his body back – it's – it's in the Fourth."

The messenger looked so close to tears that Shuuhei dismissed him the moment he was finished talking, lest Nomura pounced on the poor kid and tore his throat out for bearing such grim news. As it was, though, Shuuhei's two companions were unnaturally silent for their infamous status as loud-mouths – a change that he was uncertain with how to deal with.

"Nomura-san," he began tentatively, and though his voice was calm, his mind was already frantically buzzing with a hundred different tasks they should be doing – keeping the division calm, checking on the captain, collecting reports from the retrieval team, contacting other divisions…

Much to Shuuhei's relief, the two seated officers jerked to attention at his voice, but instead of deterring to Nomura like he had hoped the Tenth Seat would, the man's overwhelmed gaze turned to Shuuhei, and Nomura's followed.

"What are we going to do?" she blurted. She licked her lips and glanced between her companions before returning her gaze to Shuuhei for assistance.

Absolutely no idea, thought the Fourth Seat, but even as the hopelessness of the thought dawned on him, words were forming into orders and his mouth was moving of its own accord;

"Ohashi-san, cancel all non-urgent duties for the day across the division and get into contact with the Fifth to Ninth Seats. Meet somewhere. Tell Takahashi-san that he's in charge of calling all officers back and keeping everyone up to date, including unseated officers. Help him with that – we need to control information coming in and out of the division so things don't get out of hand. Find out if anyone has contacted the captain, and if no one has then _don't_ – Nomura-san and I will go to the Fourth to find out what's going on."

The Tenth Seat nodded and flickered away in a shunpo. Shuuhei turned to the Third Seat to see if she had any objections, but she held her tongue and shook her head apologetically, her body seemingly much smaller than it had been five minutes ago. Shuuhei felt a little bad for her – her shikai was impressive and her ability in the office was unparalleled, but under chaos and stress she deteriorated until all that was left was a frazzled panic and a roaring temper to match.

(An effective Third Seat she was, but Captain Tosen will never promote her to lieutenant. Shuuhei didn't want to think of the implications of that for him).

When they arrived at the Fourth Division, they headed straight for their captain's reiryoku. The Fourth Division lieutenant allowed them into the room without a word, and as Shuuhei stepped through the door to announce himself to the two captains present, the sheer silence trapped in the four walls made him reconsider. Swallowing thick tension and bile, he tucked himself against the wall and tried not to look at the centrepiece of the room; raised upon the table and covered in a long, white sheet that draped to the floor, the lieutenant's body wasn't even visible, but Shuuhei felt a shiver run down his spine anyway.

He said nothing as Captain Unohana finished her assessment, no doubt informing Captain Tosen of what she had concluded from examining the body. Shuuhei took the time to organise the messenger's report in his mind, trying to see if he could make sense of the little information he had. That someone ranked as high as a lieutenant would be killed in a district as low as the Twentieth seemed almost impossible, especially since he hadn't even been ordered to travel out that far. The messy report from the messenger didn't sit right with Shuuhei, but until he had tracked down the survivors of the retrieval team and learned what they knew for himself, that was all he had to go on.

Judging from Captain Tosen's flat tone as he thanked the other captain, there wasn't anything more substantial to learn about the events that had taken place.

 _Maybe that was a good thing_ , Shuuhei considered, although he still vowed to do a little digging to see what he could unearth. Talking to the retrieval team was his first task, assuming they were in a position to talk. The messenger hadn't said much about their condition, but if they had managed to bring back the lieutenant's body then they must be in a decent degree of heath.

He sighed, wondering if his life was on the verge of turning upside down (for better or for worse, he didn't know).

Reporting an unfortunate death in the line of action was better than reporting a murder after all.

 

 

If Shuuhei were to ever look back at these events later in his life, he would be astounded at how many _obvious_ clues he had missed. He would put it down to stress, no doubt, but that wouldn't change the fact that when he slipped into a different room deep in the Fourth Division, seeing Tōshirō Hitsugaya standing by one of the beds was the last thing he expected.

Hands and arms covered in bandages, the boy's hauntingly pale skin was ghostly. His stormy hair was plastered across his forehead, hot sweat sticking the strands to the chill of his skin, and his lips were pressed together into a firm line of worry. It was the way he held his zanpakuto that surprised Shuuhei the most though – in fact, that he was actually holding it at all was a tell-tale sign. Grasped tightly in both hands, Hyorinmaru was sheathed, but there was a shimmer of sapphire reiatsu around Hitsugaya's body that suggested the legendary dragon hadn't recently been that way.

The reason why took Shuuhei a second to process through his shock.

Retrieval mission. Seventeenth district. Week and a half.

Hitsugaya had been in that squad.

Shuuhei's professionalism promptly scrambled away in terror as he strode over with a large, unwavering gait, only stopping when his reach was mere centimetres away from Hitsugaya's arm; his fingers, unsteady, brushed the boy's kosode.

"Hisagi-senpai," Hitsugaya greeted, lifting dark eyes, tired and calm. He blinked, taking in their close proximity, but made no move to distance himself.

"Are you alright?" Shuuhei asked, blurting it before he can remember why he actually needed to talk to him. "Are you –?"

"I'm fine."

Shuuhei doubted that, even as he took a moment to re-evaluate his perceptions of the icy officer to realise that, yes, Hitsugaya did actually seem alright. "Don't lie to your superior officer," he reprimanded, shaking his head in fond amusement.

"Don't ask unnecessary questions then, Hisagi-senpai."

On the bed beside them and completely invisible to Shuuhei up to that moment, Tomomi Yukimura laughed. The Fourth Seat jumped at the sound and offered a guilty greeting to the girl; next to him, Hitsugaya dropped his gaze and returned to staring at his zanpakuto. Not entirely sure what to make of the action, Shuuhei turned to Yukimura for the time being and waited for her laughter to subside before asking if she was alright.

"Yes, I am, thank you sir," she replied, smiling far too brightly for someone in a hospital bed. Then, before Shuuhei could ask another question, she turned to her friend and added with the tone of someone who has had to repeat herself many times; "And thank you Hitsugaya-san."

Hitsugaya coloured faintly at the praise but didn't appear any happier for it.

Wondering what he had missed, Shuuhei raised an eyebrow and hoped it would be noticed. When neither of the two officers offered any explanation for their behaviour, the Fourth Seat frowned down at Yukimura's injuries, noting her pale complexion and the goose-bumps along her arms, before glancing over at Hitsugaya – his hands, wrapped white, and the crackling of frost across Hyorinmaru's hilt.

When Yukimura laughed again, giggling as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, the breath of her happiness was cold smoke from between her lips; her teeth chattered in a chilly echo of amusement.

Shuuhei sighed and pushed his hair back, confused. His first conclusion was that it looked like Hitsugaya had lost control of Hyorinmaru again in the midst of the Hollow encounter, and it seemed Yukimura was paying the price – but… but that wouldn't explain why she was _thanking_ him. Unless Hitsugaya had helped her and accidentally hurt her at some other point over the last week? That would make sense, except Shuuhei couldn't help but think that something still wasn't adding up.

Why was Yukimura still cold?

"Make-shift bandages, Hisagi-san," she explained, pulling her arms out from under the sheet to reveal bandages and –

Flakes of ice?

"Ice preserves," Hitsugaya muttered, shrugging one shoulder when Shuuhei turned towards him with an astonished expression. "We were desperate, and I – I asked Hyorinmaru to help. The healers –"

 _Had died_ , Shuuhei thought, recalling his orders from Captain Tosen. _So Hitsugaya and Yukimura-san are two of the survivors who had gone looking for the lieutenant_.

He needed to question them; to report their version of events. No doubt someone had already done so, but Shuuhei knew they would be asked again and again until the captains were satisfied they had nothing more to give.

But not yet. They were tired and hurt and the interrogation could wait. Some of the captains might have something to say about that, but Shuuhei was sure his captain would understand. Finding out what happened to the lieutenant was important, but causing further harm to the survivors – who had already been through Hell and back by the sound of it – wouldn't do any good.

"You did good," Shuuhei assured, patting Hitsugaya on the shoulder. "Both of you."

The boy flinched like a startled hare and glowered at the Fourth Seat's short laugh. Though tempted to ruffle Hitsugaya's tempest hair, Shuuhei let him be. Instead, he herded Hitsugaya into a chair and ordered him to rest, much to Yukimura's delight, and announced that he would be back later that day with some updates. He would rather stay and watch over them both, but his captain trusted him to look after the division and he couldn't leave the other seated officers by themselves. When things had calmed down, he would return to the Fourth Division and find out exactly what had happened to the lieutenant.

Still, he wasn't walking away empty handed. Throughout the entire conversation Hitsugaya had not once let his zanpakuto go, and Shuuhei considered that to be a highly valuable piece of information.

 _Progress_.

 

 

To define what had killed the Ninth Division lieutenant in four words, Shuuhei would say: _stupidity and bad luck_ , but of course he couldn't put that on the report so he had to settle for something a tad more eloquent. In the back of his mind, Kazeshini snorted and told him he should put that anyway, but Shuuhei's survival instincts won out in the end and he eventually squeezed out a semi-decent paragraph from the depths of his brain.

(One shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but a series of uninformed and strictly _rubbish_ decisions had led to the lieutenant's death, and there really was no getting around it).

He handed the report off to Nomura to file ("Thanks a _bunch_ Hisagi") and then went and found Hitsugaya in the canteen. The remains of the lunch rush were trickling out by the time Shuuhei arrived, so Hitsugaya was easy to spot. He was eating with Yukimura and a lad Shuuhei didn't know, but quickly excused himself when he noticed the Fourth Seat hanging around by the door.

"Have fun!" Yukimura called after him. Hitsugaya didn't quite manage to hide his mortified flush before he made it to the door, so Shuuhei promptly laughed at his misfortune and ushered him outside.

"Any closer to understanding the language of girls?" he teased, leading them through the grounds.

Hitsugaya's response was a grumbled – hugely relieved – _no_.

Now that Hitsugaya was back from the Eleventh Division and his mission, Shuuhei had decided to restart his attempts at connecting Hitsugaya and his zanpakuto. If the scene in the Fourth Division was anything to go by, then the boy _had_ taken Shuuhei's advice to heart and tried talking with the dragon, but the Fourth Seat still wanted to see any improvements for himself. Thus, the unseated officer didn't look particularly surprised when they entered the abandoned kido grounds in the Eleventh, nor did he question when Shuuhei pulled Kazeshini, sheathed, from his belt.

There was definitely a raised white eyebrow (or two) when Kazeshini was drawn, however.

"Come on," Shuuhei prompted, jabbing the air with his zanpakuto. "Let's see how you're doing."

Hitsugaya unsheathed Hyorinmaru and mirrored his opponent's stance. He didn't attack straight away, which meant Shuuhei had time to gauge his grip on Hyorinmaru's hilt – firmer than last time, and surer – and observe the expression on the boy's face.

Nervous. Waiting for something.

Shuuhei would have asked _what_ , but quite frankly he received answer enough when the clash of their blades resounded around the room for the first time, and in tiny, fearing hands, Hyorinmaru promptly exploded.

Claws and fangs of ice _blasted_ out across the ground. The ceiling cracked and splintered as hoarfrost rushed up in a serpentine curve and splattered along the wood. Diamond fragments hailed down like a rain of knives, but Shuuhei avoided every one as a great, icicle head _reared_ from the slender blade and hurled him across the room. Kazeshini, cackling wildly, held against the rush of ice, but Shuuhei didn't know how long he could hold his zanpakuto before his fingers froze off; ceaseless, Hyorinmaru raged, and Hitsugaya shouted back.

Frightened – not for himself but for Hitsugaya – Shuuhei fired off a burning kido and ducked away with a shunpo. He wasn't fast enough to avoid the returning jagged slice of ice completely, but he twisted to save his torso and it tore through the side of his thigh instead. Ignoring the pain, he practically crashed into Hitsugaya in his haste; Hyorinmaru's ice veered towards them, but Shuuhei ignored that too as he grabbed the boy's shoulders and said the first thing that came to his head –

"It's okay to be scared."

The ice around them – a ring, a cage – threw itself upwards, narrowly missing Hitsugaya's back as it hurtled past him.

"I'm not scared of him!" Hitsugaya cried with an angry snap, and his voice didn't waver in fear. He tore his gaze away from Shuuhei as another roar seemed to echo between them, and hastily added, "I'm not scared of you! Why won't you listen?"

It continued to rain a thousand shards of ice around them, but when they hailed down upon Hitsugaya's head they melted into water, dripping down his face and neck like tears.

(Tears?)

(Is Hyorinmaru –?)

"I was!" Hitsugaya went on, shouting his part of a conversation that Shuuhei couldn't hear. Hyorinmaru's power was stalking around them, shifting and chinking together like frozen scales of a snake, but it didn't strike. "I _was_ scared – but not of you, not really! You're just so _powerful_ – how am I meant to use your abilities? How am I meant to control that power without hurting anyone else?"

Shuuhei clung to Hitsugaya's shoulders, keeping him close, offering whatever he could in the silence of Hyorinmaru's answer.

(I'm not scared of Kazeshini. I'm scared of what I could do with him).

(I'm not scared of Hyorinmaru. I'm scared of what I _have_ done with him).

"I see," Shuuhei muttered, feeling Hitsugaya's uncertainty in the chill of his reiatsu as it curled around small, proud shoulders; as it trailed across the young, burning resolve of the prodigious child under his hands. The room was silent now but for the heaves of their breath, and the thunderous pounding of their heartbeats waiting for the zanpakuto's next move.

"Hyorinmaru?" Hitsugaya asked, wrenching the blade free from where the tip had frozen to the ground. The spirit's power was still raining down on them but the water felt cooler now, and Shuuhei couldn't fight the wonky smile that spread across his face as Hitsugaya's fringe flopped down across his face, water-logged and drowned.

He doesn't think Hitsugaya was the only one who was scared.

_I guess even mighty dragons can have the social skills of a log?_

Shuuhei had to slap a hand over his mouth to muffle his snickering. It wasn't an effective method, if the click of Hitsugaya's tongue was anything to go by, and this only made him laugh even more.

"Hisagi-senpai," said the young officer, tilting his head back to stare up at his superior officer.

"Sorry – yeah?" Shuuhei replied, pointedly not looking at the lifeless droop to the kid's hair as he attempted to calm himself. It wasn't really the time for laughing, although he had a feeling Hitsugaya and Hyorinmaru's shouting match had done them both some good.

Hitsugaya rolled his eyes – a promising sign. "You're still holding my shoulders," he said flatly, although he didn't appear particularly bothered by this as he clutched his zanpakuto to his chest, the echo of the private conversation with Hyorinmaru making him smile.

Shuuhei jerked away, blubbering apologies, and promptly slipped over the remains of the ice and toppled onto his arse.

Hitsugaya laughed.

 

 

" _Holy_ shit," Shuuhei hissed, slinking down into the steaming water of the onsen. It wasn't deserted like it had been last time he had dragged Hitsugaya there, but the absence of Renji and Ikkaku was going to make this visit a million times more enjoyable, he was certain. The water felt far hotter than it usually did, and the Fourth Seat had to bite his lip as his aching, _cold_ body submerged into the near-boiling water, but the change was likely due to the nature of their sparring session – Hyorinmaru was little else if not a great hunk of solid ice.

After the almost catastrophic start to their afternoon, the training session had passed without a hitch. Well, it hadn't been a training session as such for the most part – the spar in which Shuuhei had nearly become dragon food had definitely counted as such – but the hours had been spent mostly talking to each other; to their zanpakuto and about their zanpakuto. Shuuhei hadn't wanted to press Hitsugaya for information, but the snowy officer had shared snippets of his past without much prompting; a quiet ear to talk to, Shuuhei had learned about Junrinan, and how isolation and hatred had led to fear.

In turn, Shuuhei spoke of his own past – his life in the slums of Rukongai; how the former Ninth Division captain had inspired him; and how he had embraced his fear of Kazeshini and become stronger for it.

They had understood each other then, probably better than anyone else ever had.

Hitsugaya slipped into the pool just a moment later with his usual embarrassed haste (something the Eleventh Division clearly hadn't been able to beat out of him, for which Shuuhei was thankful), and settled down near the Fourth Seat without so much as batting an eyelid at the temperature.

 _The lucky twerp_ , Shuuhei thought, dunking the tremors of his shoulders under the water. His skin warmed to pleasant instantly, and the shinigami sighed gratefully as his body adjusted to the heat. Exploring Hitsugaya's capabilities with his shikai was a great opportunity to train (especially since it was such an _impressive_ shikai; even juvenile as it was, Hyorinmaru undoubtedly had so much to offer), but drawing the spar to a close as a walking (stumbling), talking (mumbling) icicle of a man was a consequence Shuuhei would rather avoid.

Mind, it _did_ give him a valid excuse to visit the onsen. Repeatedly. So perhaps it wasn't all bad.

"Hisagi-senpai."

Shuuhei blinked through the onsen haze to where Hitsugaya was perched, noticing with a start of surprise that there was a Hell Butterfly fluttering around the boy's bird-nest hair as if trying to find a place to settle. Groaning at the rubbish timing, the Fourth Seat reached out and gathered the little creature in his hands. It stopped struggling immediately and closed its wings, apparently having found its desired recipient.

"This is Ninth Division Fourth Seat, Shuuhei Hisagi," he announced to it, hoping whatever message was about to be relayed would allow him to soak in the comfort of the onsen for a while longer.

"Hisagi-san, this is Takahashi," said the butterfly in the coarse grumble of the Fifth Seat's voice. "You've been taken off night rotation tonight and are expected to report to the captain at nineteen-hundred hours instead. The Third Seat didn't mention why, but I'm pretty sure I could guess – hey _Lieutenant-boy_? I'm still expecting you to help out with the food stock in the morning though – Jesus Christ I'm not doing that by myself."

The message ended with Takahashi's complaints fading away.

"Oh god," said Shuuhei, watching the butterfly fly away in ignorance of the news it had just delivered. It fluttered up through the steam, wobbling all the while, and then disappeared with a puff of reiatsu.

Shuuhei slunk into the pool and contemplated drowning himself.

"Bad news?" Hitsugaya asked, and even through the spray Shuuhei could see the questioning eyebrow.

"I think I might be up for a promotion," he replied, and though that wasn't necessarily bad news, Shuuhei wasn't sure that was _good_ news either.

"Third Seat?"

" _Lieutenant_ – what?" He added the question with a laugh, catching Hitsugaya's wide-eyed stare.

Averting his gaze, Hitsugaya gave a little shrug – as he always did when uncertain with something. "I'd just gotten into the habit of calling you _Hisagi-senpai_ ," he mumbled, his tight expression implying he hadn't really wanted to share that titbit of information.

Shuuhei laughed, feeling warmed by the praise. Back when he had first met Hitsugaya, he would have never imagined that their relationship might develop to a point in which he preferred hearing _senpai_ over _Lieutenant_.

(Or _senpai_ over anything, really. He was proud to be considered important in Hitsugaya's eyes).

"You can still call me that if you want."

The next expression that passed across the boy's typically neutral complexion was so utterly _smug_ that Shuuhei was convinced he had picked it up from Yumichika.

"So you _do_ want to be a lieutenant," Hitsugaya said, and his tone was so unbelievably shrewd that Shuuhei needed to have _words_ with the Eleventh Division. "What if you become a captain?"

 _What if_ you _become a captain_ , Shuuhei wanted to say, but he wasn't brave enough to throw such a question at his companion. Instead, he settled for a sigh, and then a smile across the warmth of the onsen. Admitting defeat wasn't that hard when his opponent was as terrifyingly clever as Hitsugaya.

"I guess we'll have to see what happens, alright?"

He almost reached over and ruffled the boy's hair, but thought better of it at the last second. (Somehow, Shuuhei had a feeling called him _Tōshirō_ was more acceptable).

Hitsugaya shrugged and slipped further under the water to hide his returning smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINISHED OMG. Please leave a comment as you go~
> 
> \- san = general politeness; same social class  
> \- senpai/sempai - mentor/senior/upper classman (both versions are strictly correct - I just prefer the former)


End file.
